Simple gastronomical pleasures

Last night I stopped by the grocery store and picked up:

• Alouette Spinach and Artichoke spread
• Gorgonzola cheese, forget which brand
• Mar-Val's deli's French bread with sea salt sprinkled over top

I took that all home to a bottle of Gnarly Head wine and some crumbly crackers, both of which my wife had bought, and some leftover Gouda cheese.

Man, that was good.

The Alouette makes a spread that is suspiciously packaged as a Brie-like "spread," which is a misnomer bordering on dishonesty, but this spinach/artichoke stuff was very good. I could have eaten it all night; those who know me know that that's not an empty promise...

Drip, drop

Today is trudging by in exhaustingly slow, 10-minute intervals. Bleah.

Bro-man

I went and saw my brother today. It's been too long.

He's hanging tough under ridiculously difficult circumstances, and I'm at some loss for words to describe it all. I feel awful for what he's going through. I hope for the best on his behalf.

Me so happy

I am having a good day. Little bits and pieces of good things are floating downstream and into my fishy little pool, like injured, flailing insects to a fattened catfish. I am only too cheerful to snap them up.

I got my new toy. Although I have spent scarcely little time with it, it's here when I'm ready, and that is comforting.

I sold a very-modestly valuable item that I am pleased to be rid of, and I did it for an amount that both buyer and seller were instantly happy with. It will be gone tomorrow, and there's some paperwork to sort out. I expect it won't be a problem, but the twitchy, paranoid imp that lives in my head won't rest easy until it's all put to bed. Fuck him anyway, it'll be fine.

I cleaned up the house a bit, and I am happy to contribute to the good of the hive. I even completed a honey-do that has lingered overlong, and I suspect that my wife will be pleased, too.

I took a moment out of my busy day to take up a small, independent journalistic project. I collected vital data for a local news story. I am grateful for the opportunity to practice a little structured creativity, and will link to its result when it's done.

All of the above have a few things in common: they are good, positive occurrences that lead in a positive direction; they are all parts of an incomplete whole; they are all things which I am happy to have incomplete, but in-progress. It allows me to work on a continuing failing of mine: the lack of follow-through. As I was heard earlier today to exclaim: "When we struggle, that's when we grow."

I see you out there, Joe Silva! I know you're there. Tell your Mom I said "Hi," and I miss her.

How entitled?

I have a Computer Science degree. Does that make me a scientist?

I like to draw, write and shoot video, and I'm getting better at it by the same imperceptibly small and slow increments at which I practice at it. Can you call me an artist?

I've told jokes and gotten laughs on stage. Can I call myself a comedian?

I've given of myself to non-profit organizations. Am I a philanthropist?

I've hiked and fished and generally lain about the wilderness. I'm lousy at it, but I'm enthusiastic and improving. Am I fairly termed an outdoorsman?

I work independently for people who find that work valuable. Does that make me a businessman?

What's in a name? Surely, any communication carries with it a promise. "Your word is your bond." "A rose by any other name..." Should I promote myself with any or all of these titles, all technically true, some a paler shade of the truth than others? "Fake it 'til you make it?" If I do, am I a phony? Should I feel ashamed? Would others feel deceived, were they to know how much a title chafes against my own self-esteem, factual accuracy or no?

I ask because I see some people wear masks that don't quite fit, don't quite cover the smirks and winks that go along with them. For example, Bear Grylls's program, "Man vs. Wild" occasionally strains against the letter and intent of the truth. There are frequent and intense debates about just what manner of SAS soldier he was. I don't know the difference myself, but from reading the arguments, one type of SAS is on par with special forces/commandos, and the other is a less intimidating version, drawing comparisons to National Guardsmen or weekend warriors. Grylls himself never met a superlative he didn't like, exclaiming on every show that something was the fastest/meanest/favoritest/nastiest thing he'd ever done/seen/heard of. It gives the impression that everything he does is bigger, better, faster, badder than the thing before. It defies reality that that could be the case, but there you have it.

Is it even necessary? It may well take that kind of over the top, wild-eyed exclamation point-wielding to get a show off the drawing board, green-lit and on the air, but I can honestly say that I would watch the show even if he were a crossing guard who actually HAD tasted something worse than bloodworm grubs or whatever. It's just a good show featuring interesting outdoors techniques and spectacular views, and that's quite enough for me.

But I do wonder - since there are people who aren't interested in honesty, humility (not referring to Grylls now, although I expect he'd "never been more insulted" if I were) - do they deserve to be quasi-lied to in this fashion? If you can't be persuaded to get off your ass and pay attention to someone unless they've skydived naked and blindfolded behind enemy lines during a hurricane, do you deserve to be lied to? If that's the only way to get you motor running, should you really expect that everyone you meet or see on TV to be the most ultimate, extreme, balls-out, in-your-facest version of whatever they're doing? How exhausting. Can't I just be a fairly unassuming human being who's good at a few worthwhile things but still learning about others, and still be worth your time? Do I have to claim all things under the sun and suck all the oxygen out of a room before I'm taken seriously? It seems directly opposite of common sense.

I guess I'm not comfortable promising the moon. But doesn't that promise come with an implied wink anymore anyway?

In response to my own questions:

• Does that make me a scientist? I'll use the title, but only with generous humor.
• Can you call me an artist? Yes - I think the title of artist can be proudly claimed by anyone who seeks to create.
• Can I call myself a comedian? Shit, no. It takes more work than I've put into it, but I think I have gifts and skills that could have taken me somewhere with it, in another life.
• Am I a philanthropist? No, nothing so grand, but I wouldn't mind a title that says I've helped out now and then.
• Am I fairly termed an outdoorsman? Yes, but it's a close call. By next year I hope to be much more seasoned, wise and deserving.
• Does that make me a businessman? Yes, but only in a blue-collar, grounded sense of the word.

No more slimmin'

I invited my son to head to the pool with me. I mimicked his childlike mispronunciation of the word when I said: "Hey, wanna go slimmin' with me?" He exhuberantly replied: "Swimming? Yeah!"

Kinda bummed me out. Pretty soon, he won't describe pine tree leavings as "pine noodles," either.

Gollum lives

I've been ogling and coveting a new gizmo for a while now. Normally I quietly hug my knees and whisper: "my preciousssss..." under my breath until the feeling passes.

Not this time. I earned the money it costs. I went further and earned some extra cash and put it towards the household (which sorely needs it). I went even further still and performed tireless research to ensure I got the right product with the features I wanted (not easy), at the best price I could find (surprisingly easy). This ensures bang-for-the-buck confidence and minimizes disappointment. Buyer's remorse makes fools of us all, even with the best of intentions.

Soon, my precious will come to me, and I shall dance a little jig and revel in the euphoria that retail therapy brings.

Things I don't understand #4

Why does cooking have to be so complicated?

I get the itch to work with food now and then, and nine-tenths of the time, I don't even bother, because recipes are so complicated and loaded down with obscure, little-used ingredients. Who wants to buy a bottle of paprika, use it once, and never touch it again until the contents are as fresh as a mummy's linen? I can't in good conscience waste expensive resources, so I'd end up using it inappropriately, just to get rid of it: "Hey, put some paprika on those muffins! Have some paprika with that ice cream. You know what goes good with beer? Paprika! Paprika, paprika, paprika!!"

You know what I can make? Mashed potatoes. Perfectly enjoyable, "fresh-from-scratch" mashed potatoes. Four ingredients, and one o' them is water, fer chrissakes. Go ahead, search for that on foodnetwork.net. You'll find bay leaves, kosher salt, nutmeg... Doesn't anybody understand that food should be, or at least start out, simple; maybe then build into some more sophisticated recipes?! Hm?

Oh, wait. Emeril's recipe does. Maybe I'll see what he's got over there... What's this: "white pepper? Heavy cream?" Ech. How about black pepper and milk?

A Thief's Quest

He arrives at the forbidding metal doors early, and creeps furtively inside. Patience is as important as skill as he sneaks warily from one point to another, and he keeps his mind focused and his reflexes sharp. More thief than hero, his latent fear is kept in check only because a business-like demeanor is key to his success.

A fly on the wall keeps watch, and thinks to itself: "Hey, he's pretty nimble, for a fat guy."

He climbs tenaciously to the terrace where his prize awaits and braces for a final, catlike snatch at victory, only to be shoved down again, unexpectedly. A setback. Disappointing, but not surprising. He has lurked these labyrinthine halls before, stricken dumb with wonder and awe at the number and severity of the pitfalls that await the uninitiated. Set back but undaunted, he climbs again, to face the soulless, animated carcass dully guarding his prize with an empty, dead gaze.

To say her limbs move perfunctorily would be a generous description, but her hollow mind and plodding movements are still more than enough to stymie his acquisition of the ultimate prize. With a soothing tone and meaningless, empty words, he coaxes the zombie queen into mechanically releasing his coveted scroll, containing mystic jargon and the magical seal necessary for the start of his true quest.

Thrilled at his triumph, he makes his hasty exit with the brisk efficiency of one who has plucked a dragon's egg while the beast slept, senses on full alert for the evil squeal that raises the alarm and dooms his heavy errand, so close to its zenith.

With a silent breath of relief, he gently settles the forbidding metal door closed behind him, much less intimidating now that it was at his back. His quasi-covert mission completed, his climbed aboard his wagon and stole away without a backward glance.

...

In other news, my trip to the DMV was good, overall.

I blog, and the whole world blogs with me

My brother has joined the ranks of digital scribes, and has his own blog. I am proud of him for taking the first steps towards Internet immortality. I know he's got some good posts in him. Just like me, sometimes he just needs to get out of his own way.

Plus, I can nag him about how long and how frequent his postings are. Everybody wins!

Volunteer video gig

I had the spare time and good fortune to donate my time and effort once again to the local Public Access Television Studio last Thursday night. I was a cameraman for a local human interest/interview show, called Kathy's Window on Calaveras. It was energizing and a little challenging.

It was energizing to perform a function in a new field that is valuable to someone. Honestly, the job was pretty easy for any sober Joe, but it needed done, and they appreciated me taking the time to do it. A very positive environment, I guess that's the point.

It was challenging just because it was new, and I did a good job.

I was also fortunate to speak with local television personality and political candidate, Kathy Mazzaferro. I have helped tape a few of her shows now (including an interview with this guy), and I am always impressed with her presence on-screen. With no apparent pre-show preparation, she takes the show's intro, exit and interviews smoothly from start to finish. I interviewed her myself after the final taping, and she shared with me her background and some information on how she is able to carry on the show, virtually wrinkle-free. I was surprised to learn that it involved very few juicy secrets and behind-the-scenes witchcraft - it mostly involved decades of voracious consumption of all events under the sun, and a genuine interest in any topic. As I asked her: "Well, how am I supposed to fake that??" At least I got her to laugh...

Personal space

Overheard at my house last night:

"Tell Daddy what you did at pre-school today."

"I poked da teacher..."

"...and where did you poke her?"

"In da boobie..."

At this point, things got dark, as my torso convulsed, I turned away and I covered my face with my hands to disguise the laughter that was ably muffled, but not entirely tamed. I am told that my son was instructed in no uncertain terms regarding personal space.

He is my son, that much is certain. And I love him very much.

Don't make me hurt you

Not off to a very good start today. I am coming off an imperfect weekend, and things are not exactly smooth this morning. I am working through it, but if pushed, I may resort to physical and psychological violence.

This is what I imagine PMS to feel like. I'd cutcha as soon as look atcha.

Dodged a bullet?

I was really worried that today would be a nail-biting, misanthropic adventure through Hell. It's actually working out to be fairly relaxed and pleasant. Nice!

Gift idea - digital camcorder

Another gadget I can live without but don't want to:

Samsung SC-D372 MiniDV Camcorder

Only $179 at Circuit City. Temptingly low price. I am very tempted to buy it myself, but I haven't done the requisite research yet. It's just so darn cheap, it makes me wanna buy it.

[Note after the fact: I bought this darn thing, too! I doubt anyone was preparing to get it for me, but if you were, don't! I've already got a very similar item.]

Gift idea - handheld GPS unit

My birthday is a few ragged months away. For those of you looking for gift ideas, here's one:

Lowrance iFinder GO2 Handheld GPS Unit

I compared it to an eTrex unit (I avoid linking to it to avoid potential confusion) for a few dollars more, and this slightly cheaper unit is vastly superior, with more memory, higher display resolution, more routes and waypoints, bigger display and immensely better battery life. Just a better-looking unit.

This is something I'll buy for myself eventually, but is just spendy enough that I hesitate.

---

[Note after the fact: I bought this for myself after finding it for two-thirds the price linked above. I look forward to doodling with it!]

Social self reflection and the UFC

Oh, goody goody - my UFC fights are on tonight! But it does raise an issue. Allow me to share in the most long-winded manner I can manage. It is my way...

I grew up in a manner that was certainly some form of anti-social. I don't hate people (necessarily), but it was a long time before I learned what a good friend was. I thought I knew at the time, but I was tragically mistaken. Therefore, I kept company that was neither truly fun to be around, nor had my best interests at heart.

This background has resulted in a system of socializing and a view of relationships that could generously be called "quirky." I developed a stunted and odd view of how friendships work, and to this day it confuses me and those around me.

For one thing, I largely equate friendships and social events with drinking. This seems an obvious result of the fact that during my teen years, my acquaintances and I would rarely get together without getting some form of good and loaded, and when we did, the event was considered a failure without exception. Therefore, getting together nowadays without a drink in my hand seems unnatural. What the Hell do people do with themselves? Psh - talk?! You must be kidding. It's awkward, and makes my slightly nervous. It's like smoking after a meal, or peanut butter with jelly - one without the other is all right and everything, but certainly not ideal. I don't necessarily enjoy this condition, I just recognize it.

Another unusual trait is that I don't get lonely, at least in what I understand to be a traditional sense. I've never understood why solitary confinement is such a feared punishment in prison movies and other tales of hardship. I think that Tom Hanks in "Cast Away" was just as well off with his artificial friend Wilson as with just about everyone else in that film. By and large, Sartre had it right - Hell is other people.

Only in recent years has this stoic psychological dam begun to show signs of cracking. Having made what I still consider the right decision to move away from my hometown and acquaintances (as well as most of my wife's friends and family as well), it becomes more practically apparent how isolated we are, geographically as well as socially. My wife isn't as bizarre and fundamentally insane as I am, and I worry that she should be happier with more friends in her life, too.

In any event, this is brought to the fore by the fact that I would really like to invite a buddy over tonight to watch pairs of top-conditioned men beat the Hell out of each other, but the list of potential co-viewers is damned slim. Michelle and I have taken a sloppy slap or two at putting down roots and making friends in our new hometown, but the roots are few and shallow in the soil.

In any event, it's likely too late to invite anyone over, and the festivities are on a weeknight, confusing most peoples' schedules (nice going, UFC President Dana White!). Still, I could make a couple of phone calls, take a shot at it. The fact that I let a few logistical wrinkles stop me from trying just leads me to consider the above personality traits regarding my views on friendship.

What an odd life. Not bad, but odd.

UFC Fight Night comin' up

The UFC is premiering its latest season of The Ultimate Fighter with a bang. Tomorrow night, they're kicking off with a three-hour butt-kicking Fight Night extravaganza, followed by the reality show's premiere episode. It's gonna be several solid hours of butt-kickitude, punctuated only with the cracking of cold beers and a few commercials. Best of all, it's free on Spike TV. Nice!

When I was younger, I learned that a big part of being happy is simply having something to look forward to. I'm looking forward to this.

Time Magazine's Ron Paul article

Time Magazine published a great article about Ron Paul's candidacy and both his contrast to and effect upon the Republican Party.

My wife is awesome

My wife had a big challenge a few days ago. She was nervous, but she showed up with her game face on, and won the day.

I am very proud of her.