All-in-All, a Good Summer...

Jan (aka Junie) and Jeff (aka Barker) just drove off in Jeff's (newly waxed and shiny) Lexus--a very comfortable car to ride in. Anyway, they stopped back in at our place for coffee/tea this morning, before driving back up to Longmont where they're meeting Jeff's son, Kyle, for lunch. What a good time we had--I'm so happy that they decided to drive down to see us.

We had a delicious meal at Alys's Fireside Cafe, the only *good restaurant in our town--but if you have to only have *one, this is a good one to have. Thankgawd Jeff was there, he knows wine, and he chose a wonderful pinot noir, David Bryce, or something like that, from the Russian River region? All I know is it was a perfect pairing with our meals. (Junie, the designated driver, and John, for medical reasons, not partaking). Jeff had rack of lamb, Jan had this awesome ravioli, done with some sort of mushrooms and port--the bite she gave me tasted fantastic. I had quail, roasted perfectly, a hint of teryaki sp? in the glaze. John had the grouper. Soup was called Italian Onion, and it was also delicious. Of course there was Alys's bread, baked daily, by herself, and I always feel I could eat a whole loaf of it (but don't, of course). For dessert Jeff had espresso and some kind of strange-named confection, something with chopped nuts, a word like Panucho, but that's not quite it. Good, whatever it's called. Jan had cheesecake w/blueberries. The blueberries were small as caviar, and we talked about that, how blueberries seem to have gotten so BIG, these days, but these seemed out of the old days. John and I split a brownie sundae w/amaretto-fudge, and all of our desserts came with freshly made whipped cream. I openly swooned eating my half. YUM!

Anyway, before this sumptious meal, we'd hung out for a little while at the lake, called Lathrop, a State Park, but it was hot and kind of muggy, so feeling melty we soon piled into Jeff's Lexus, and went to their room at the Rio Cucharas Inn, to play games and get out of the heat. After Jeff finished renegotiating the price of his room, for which I can't blame him, as he was told they'd have a King Suite for only 75 dollars, and what they got was a standard room with two queen beds, nothing fancy, so the guy at the desk changed the price to 50 bucks. Can't beat that! The room was big, if a little dimly lit and dated, but 50 bucks, and just outside the french-esque doors was a terrific view of the Spanish Peaks and other mountains. We munched on grapes and sipped on beer and wine, played this game I'd made up, called "Who Said That?", which involved quotes and marbles, while we waited for time to go to our dinner at Alys's. It worked out, we laughed a lot, got a little bit buzzed but not too-too, and Jan drove us in the Lexus to dinner, John sitting shotgun and Jeff and I lolling in the back seat, which seemed right because we were maybe 3/4 of a sheet to the wind. We proceded to add more sheets at the restaurant, where I became pleasantly tipsy and by the end of the meal, downright drunk. It was fun. So, we went back to the room, played a little trivia pursuit. After some lazy dice-rolling, some hard to see and grasp questions, (Junie brought out a little flashlight), all of us scrambling for our cheater glasses, John pretty much won the game. Junie, once again the sober chauffeur sp?, (Jeff and I almost catatonic in the back seat) drove John and I home, and we were all in bed by midnight or so. Mostly, it was just good to see them, laugh and kibbitz around like we always do--a fun day and evening.

I was telling Jan that I had a good feeling, a feeling of satisfaction about the summer, so far, since we'd been lucky enough to have visits by many friends this year. David and Evelyn, and their son Kenny visited for a few days, and Darrol visited twice, and we got to see Jan and Jeff twice, once when we took the Royal Gorge train in Canon City, and again this weekend. I went to San Diego for a week to see my kids, and my sister, and her two daughters, and meet Mike, who is Nikki's love interest, and where all-in-all I had a GREAT time. Since John's family is here in our town, we got to see them quite a bit, too. The only plan that didn't come about was a trip down to Roswell, to see my mom and brother. With the VW acting up, we'll see. If it is less to repair than we suspect it will be, then perhaps we can still get in a visit to them.

That's about it. Oh, John has a newly-found half-aunt, named Susan, from Georgia, who is coming to CO with his other aunt, Janet (she comes out almost every year), who lives in St. Pete's, FLA, to meet John's mom. Janet and Bev have never met this half-sister of theirs, child from their father's second marriage, and it's a long story, but Nana, the first wife and mother of Janet and Bev, had told them their father was dead, something like 20 years before he actually did die. Weird. So, for Janet and Bev, this will be a big deal. For us, and John's sister and brother, not so much, but I'm sure we'll end up spending time with this Aunt Susan.

Das es alles! I'll probably post again around the time the snow begins to fly. Heheheh.

I'm at the Stage

And I don't want to go up the stairs and walk
the floor boards to stand in the center,
and nor do I especially desire to take a seat
in any row, not even the balcony, to watch,
(okay, maybe I want to do a little watching)
and applaud the myriad of players doing the show.

I've traveled a distance, but leaving the car
in the lot, milling around in the lobby, nodding
to the face or two that seem familiar or seek mine out
with a friendly smile, seems almost pointless to me,
and I know I must be depressed,
but I don't feel particularily depressed,
so I just don't know.


I guess that's a poem of sorts. And the way I feel right now. Dudly. I don't want to do much of much, and summer is here so I should shake myself out of this rut, enjoy the warmth (well it's actually near friggin' hot) before the snow flies again, and it always flies sooner than we're prepared to greet it. Old friends are passing through here in 2 weeks, stopping for the night on their way from San Antonio to Sacramento, so that will be nice, to catch up and spend some time with them. Then I'm off to CA, myself, for a week, to San Diego, to see the kids. I'm sure this mood will pass.

2 movie reviews & a rant for The Food Network

We've viewed several movies lately, and off the cuff, here are a few: The Departed, Ghost Riders, Epic Movie, Deja Vu, Borat, The Illusionist, The Queen (seems like anything that begins with "The" is "the thing", right now) and I'll admit I don't know when a movie becomes a film and when a flick is just a flick, but 2 of the movies we viewed did seem rather more filmish to me:

The Painted Veil and Babel both offer what I like to see in a film, a story or plot, and a director/producer with the balls to show it to the audience at a pace they chose and not knuckling under to the wants and whims of an A.D.D. culture that we seem to have become. I should probably continue to come at this review from the negative, to say these films offered less of what I don't want to see in a film: gratuitous sex and nudity, or sex and nudity scenes not germane to the plot, with a rinse and repeat of gore and violence. These films did not offer a compromised vapid plot, the tone and time-line all jacked-up for the sake of a lot of exploding cars, buildings and bodies. The Painted Veil and Babel, did NOT feature any bionic body parts, souped-up vehicles or weapons, or any other Terantinoesque features--not that I'm saying Terantino hasn't contributed to the general excitement of movie-watching with Pulp Ficiton, Resevoir Dogs, Kill Bill, etc., because he certainly HAS, and I am a huge fan of some of his flicks.

The Painted Veil was definitely slow, but it was also very pretty, both performance-wise and cinematic-wise. It's true, The Painted Veil couldn't get out of its own way, the plot unfolding with the speed of the last of the Heinz Ketchup making it to the mouth of the bottle held upside-down, but I have to think in the end, it *was, mostly worth the wait.

Babel, now this film is certainly interesting and thought provoking. Yes, it does have violence, and sex, and nudity, but all of these elements seemed necessary and appropriate to the plot. The film takes place in three countries, Morocco, Mexico and Japan, and the United States by proxy, and is somehow very compelling to experience. However, again, if you're looking for frenetic and pumped-up, you may be disappointed, but if you're looking for unique and unusual, stimulating and even poignant, you may be pleasantly surprised.

As for my rant for The Food Network? I ask, has TFN lost its mind? If you happened to see their newest "The Next Food Network Star", (second season?) which began anew the other night, which, if you're not familiar, yet another of their reality elimination concepts, so ubiqutous these days, I'm not sure there is anyone left who has not seen one show or another like it. YadaYadaYada, a dozen or so contestants are chosen, presumably from video material submitted, to compete for a slot as a regular TV host on the network, (last show's winner I think is doing a Dives and Drive-Ins show, and I don't think he is doing a whole lot of 'cooking' for that particular segment. Anyway, the new show offers the winner a cover and article in Bon Appetit, a chance to be seen, to become a culinary *STAR*, whatever the case. Well ! I think Mr. Tushman and his crew must've eaten a few too many MaryJane brownies out of the Food Network ovens when they formulated the vision for this series. It would seem they got this series mixed up with another of their series, the one called "Top Chef". This latest "The Next Food Network Star" starts out as a joke. Bobby Flay, Tushman and a woman (I can't remember her name or title right now) pit eleven 'cooks' against each other for the winning title and their own show. Some of the contestants are referred to as "home cooks", some are caterers, some are line or sous chefs, you get the idea, they're food people in some capacity. But watching this newest show, what got to me was this--the network came up with some of the most ridiculous and unrelated to Food-Show-hosting ability tests and exercises imaginable, like cake decorating under the eye of the Ace of Cakes guy, or breaking into two teams and preparing a wedding feast, a la Dinner Impossible, under the eye of Chef Robert Irvine, tasked to provide food for a vegetarian bride and groom and their 100 guests, shopped for and prepared and presented, all within 6 hours. Somebody tell me how these contestants are able to prove themselves camera savvy or television kitchen personalities by teaming up with 4 or 5 other contestants, frantically shopping and chopping and cooking in the kitchen of a reception hall? Frankly, just how does any actual degree of culinary skill equate to being the face and voice for a Food Network Segment? I'll compare it to fashion modeling. A runway model vs. a magazine model. Does a magazine model need to know how to posture, walk, stand, turn, vamp to a live audience? No. The photographer and "people" do all that for a photo-model, and the model just has to have the ability to wait for long periods of time in hair/makeup/outfits/duct tape, and then do the shot when the shooter says "Go". I'm thinking this: if a Food Network Chef/personality knows the basics about food preparation and convection, knows a spatula from a whisk, a sauce pan from a wok, how to use small appliances and gadgets--AND, can string a sentence together and has hair and all of their teeth, and display them with a ready smile, have a fair amount of charm and cool under fire, then by all rights, they should be able to perform in whatever capacity is required for the Networks' desired show and its outcome. Everyone knows on a T.V. cooking show that they also have *people* to do most of what the viewers at home see happen. These personalities simply need to be able, if need be, to scoop out a mound of Alpo onto a Triscuit, make it look appealing, sell it to the viewers, and they've done their job! If I were either of the two contestants who got told they were eliminated in the part II of the first segment, I'd be having a pow-wow with the network VIPs, accusing them of head-up-tushness, questioning the fairness of the criteria they were judged by, and demanding they review the theme of the contest, and reinstate me on the third season show. I'm sure these eleven contestants, especially the 2 eliminated so far, are saying to themselves, "WTF ? if I had wanted to be on "Top Chef", I'd have tried out for "Top Chef"!

Where would most of the non-chef current FN stars be right now if they had had to jump through the same hoops that Flay and Tushman and that very kind woman (sorry, I can't think of her name) are setting before the current contestants. I would LOVE to see Rachel Ray or Robin Miller or any number of the current Food Network show *stars* submit to these same trials set before these wannabes--I wonder how nifty-looking a wedding cake Rachel could construct--or let's see Duff, the Ace of Cakes guy, lead a team turning out an entire wedding banquet in 6 hours--and not just the cake!


If you saw the (2 hour!) show, the other night, and feel the same way I do--perhaps Mr. Tushman and his crew should be shown a link to my blog. I think the guy--Patrick?, and the Brazilian girl, Vivien ?, got robbed and ripped--they never had a chance to show their abilities in front of a camera--all they got to show is that they may not (in theory) be a winner on "Top Chef".


BTW, I'm going to come back and edit all of my spelling mistakes--but only after I get rid of this crazy headache that has attached itself to my head and neck. It has been one thing after another today. What gives? Is the planet wobbling? Mississippi River still flowing from North to South?

I'll come back to this tonight

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Laundromat Magazines and Penthouse Suites

First you need to understand this town. We're small, very small and poor and backward. Perhaps backward is harsh, let's just say there's a pervasive and comfortable inertia that exists here. That's why I was so surprised to walk into our local laundromat and find all new and shiny computerized Maytag washers and dryers. It had been at least six years ago that I'd used this facility and back then it looked a scare, ragged carpet wherever there WAS carpet, dinge and grime enveloped you the minute you entered-- to the point you felt like wearing plastic grocery bags on your feet the whole time you had to be there--which was LONG because the dryers pretty much charged you a fortune for cool air--but you just knew there wasn't enough bleach in your arsenal to combat the military of germs that had set up their base there.

So, here we are, near the end of 2006, some six or seven years later, and our circumstances have brought about the need to once again do our laundry at the laundromat. I'm happy to say that the improvements made on the place (some inertia break-through has occured) make it a lot more pleasant place to perform the task of keeping our clothing in a somewhat clean state. So, anyway, yesterday was laundry day and I didn't bring any reading material with me. I mean it's hard enough to get all the quarters, detergent, wet bleach, dry bleach, dryer sheets, hangers, plastic bags, purse, water bottle (I get so thirsty in there!) plus all the trash bags of dirty clothes together that I ended up cussing 'Shit, I forgot to bring a book with me'. So I pick up this magazine (there's a vast array of all sorts of churchy or religious pamphlets and magazines to chose from) called "The Liguorian", http://www.liguorian.org/ which says it is 'The Catholic Compass in a Changing World'. Well, I thumbed through it, read an article or two, read a fiction piece, and I have to say, I was quite impressed with the quality of the magazine on the whole.

I don't know what that has to do with the price of petrol or stopping the war in Iraq, but I guess that's what this particular blog is about, just reports on whatever inane or far-out, either one, stuff I run into during the course of my consecutive days breathing on this planet. And I just figured it was time for a new blog entry.

So what else to say? God, sometimes life is strange. We're moved into the top portion of this old building we own on Main Street. I've taken to calling it the Penthouse Suite, and it couldn't be farther from that at the moment. In time we hope to fix it up all nice and modern and sleek and smart, but right now it closely resembles a NYC tenantment slum (minus the fire escapes) or a floor out of The Projects in Chicago. We've owned the building for a few years but had lived elsewhere, in a rental house that was fairly comfortable, but to save money we've decided to install ourselves on the upper floor of our fairly dilapidated building. Half of the 5000 sq feet, the downstairs, is zoned 'commercial', where we have had our businesses going all along, and the upstairs half is zoned 'residential'. Well now it has residents. John and me and our three cats, Ozzy, Sparky and the new feline family member, a kitten named Mojo. We're actually only living in the last third of the top floor, for now, because the windows in the front need major repair/replacement and trying to heat all of it in the winter would be ridiculous, so we've cordoned off what I'm guessing amounts to about 750 sq feet, 3 rooms, plus we've temporarily walled in a closet-sized hallway bathroom, which makes it a total of 4 rooms.

So we do have walls and windows (they'll need to be weather-proofed come winter) and we have a sub-floor that I've put a couple rugs down on, and we have a toilet that flushes, a tiny shower (only cold water right now--and we tried taking a shower in it but it was TOO cold for me) and a bathroom sink. We ripped up the nasty, skanky carpet that was in that bathroom and now we have this layer of foam from the underside of the carpet that even acetone and scrapeing isn't taking up too well, but we chink away at the hard cement-like layer so we can put down some tile--right now it looks like wonderboard or white plywood plastered with this stubborn layer of cement. We have electricity and our refrigerator is plugged in and working fine, but the oven/stove can't work until we run a 220 line. We have cable t.v., computers on DSL, so that's very good, and we have running water, just not running "hot" water, but John thinks he may have that going by this weekend. I hope so. To be able to take a hot shower at home will be nice. For the last few weeks we've taken our showers down at the Acorn (truckstop) or at family members' homes, and as I already reported, we do our laundry at the local laundromat.

Last night I boiled a dozen eggs in the crockpot. Worked like a charm. We'll have fish sticks tonight, cooked in our little stand alone convection oven. We're doing allright. This weekend the projects are getting some hot water going to the shower and putting down that cheap stick on tile on the bathroom floor. This bathroom is temporary so I don't care if the tile is good--just clean. We'll be renovating (who knows when exactly) a decent sized room in the middle of the floor to someday be our real bathroom and laundry room. We've totally designed our tricked out future Loft/Penthouse suite, now to be able to turn that design into a reality. I expect it will take 3 years looking at our income. One good thing for John...NO YARDWORK...not that he did much of it before because he hates it so much.

So, Home Sweet Home is a little less than sweet, but we have lived in much worse conditions and trite but true, we have our health--for which I never cease to be grateful.

Visionary Impressions

I've decided not to visit the eye doctor, even though I'm blind as a dizzy kid holding a baseball bat under a pinata. I see everything about as well as I need to. Viewing life through an impressionistic lens has its upside:

1) I'm accurate with the time, give or take 6 hours.

2) Now and then I feel the coffee table; if the top feels fluffy--I dust it.

3) I'm friendlier blind than sighted, I just wave at everyone, cover all the bases.

4) I'm good-looking--wrinkles and blemishes are absent and my eyebrows look neat enough.

5) I've become more trusting in life. I can't tell keys apart so I leave all doors unlocked. When I hand a bill of currency to a cashier, it's with utter confidence he or she will honestly give back the proper change, or politely ask me for more money. When this happens I hand them my wallet and sweetly say, "Just take whatever you need." Since I'm not sure how much money I started with, it's rarely a problem. I'd rather use my plastic, and I do, but it gets a tad embarrassing when I attempt to swipe my card in everything from the receipt printout machine to the stapler.


Well, you get the picture.

Kicking (Roundhouse) into Spring

For over two months I've been taking a martial arts class. I am working on receiving my yellow belt, right now. I don't know how many belt colors I'll be able to get, but I'll try my best to gain more of them, as long as my Sensei is here to teach me. I began the class with little to no big interest or attachment to the discipline or culture. I mean, sure, I'd heard of Bruce Lee, but the whole K(g)ung Fu thing hardly registered a blip on my radar. Because our town is small and has no dance classes, which I DO have a big interest in, I signed up for these Karate classes that ARE offered nearby, in hopes of getting in shape and losing these stubborn 35 pounds which have attached themselves to me, like a leech, and won't let go. I've come to think of these pounds as a separate and alien being, an evil (almost twin) who must be destroyed in order to let the slimmer (good) me, live in total happiness. Anyway, as so often happens in life, without seeking it out with any strong purpose, I've begun to become interested in the teachings and mindset behind these arts, not just in the technical aspects, but the spiritual ones, the core from which it springs (like a tiger!)

However, still the humorful type of person I always was, this morning when I decided it was time to add a blog entry, I thought of my recently memorized 'Creed of Karate' and "Isshin-Ryu Code'.

I looked at the stark, blank page and thought:

I come to you with only munashii maindo, empty mind. I have no acumen, but should I be forced to defend myself, my honor or my principles; should it be a (gray) matter of life or death (complete brain) , or right or wrong, then here is my weapon, my empty mind. (Sai!)

What else has happened?

Oh! My son, Nate, has come to Colorado. He lives in Colorado Springs, 2 hours north of me, and is staying with his dad and step-mom, right now, but is working to get a small apartment near the college, so he can walk there. He is very bright but disabled by mental illness. He takes his meds, sees his doctors when he is supposed to, but leads a very childish and sheltered existence with his dad and step-mom. He lives on a small disability check each month, doesn't drive, but he and I are very excited that he is finally feeling able to take the (somewhat scary for him) steps to go forward, get his own place, his own life (away from his controlling dad) and may finally become the autonomous adult that he's always been able to be, but either never felt he could be, or was not encouraged to be, whichever. The main thing is that now he feels strongly that he can do this. Yay!

My daughter, Nikki, took her real estate exam and unfortuately didn't pass it, but she is undaunted, says she'll take it again, and again, if necessary. I've heard that it's an extrememly difficult test, so there's no shame in not passing it the first or second time around.


What else? Hmmm, looks like David and Kris are going to be parents again.

Talked with Ann and Gary last night. They are still in California, although they'd expected to be in Kansas by now. It may be another year before they can move to their Kansas house (no damage from recent tornado in the area) they purchased last year. Hinges on the outcome of a court hearing regarding their grandson, now living in a foster home, because his parents are unfit (drugs). We're sending our good thoughts to them, that they can gain custody of Niles and begin their retirement the way they'd hoped, in a new home and state.

Heard from Penny and Tony, our friends who moved to Roatan Island, off the Honduran coast. They've been there an entire year and feel they've mostly adjusted and are very happy in their island life.

Junie and Barker just purchased a home in Wisconsin.

Everyone making some changes.

That be about it for the moment.

Check out our internet radio station--well, mostly John's baby--The Butte Radio--link on the right of the blog.

Over and out.