Shoes, Ships, and Sealing Wax

Friday already?

If it's Friday, it must be Random Worthless Short Entry Day...

I just bought $175 worth of scrapbook-making supplies, so now I need to go do something.

(Scrapbook supplies on top of my Amazon spree last night. I think that there is a subconscious method to my madness...when my job gets really bad, when I really get to a point where I'm hating it and want to just quit, I spend money like a drunken sailor for a few days and realize that yeah, as a matter of fact, I do need this stinkin' job after all.)

Anyway, I need to do something, so tomorrow it's up to Charm City for the Kinetic Sculpture Race, then Sunday is the March of Dimes WalkAmerica.

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Am I the only one in America who doesn't know who Tina Fey is?

Ok, now I know who she is, more or less, because I've seen stuff in the paper about her movie. But I wish I had a dollar for everyone who has said "You know Tina Fey! She does Weekend Update on Saturday Night Live!"

Last time I saw SNL, Dennis Miller was doing Weekend Update. And I was missing Chevy Chase.

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I'm kinda bummed about the demise of Oldsmobile. I drove one for awhile, my dad's Delta 88. It was no Rocket 88, but it had cruise control and a good tape deck, and I can remember driving across the Bay Bridge with my brother, windows all down, blaring Bad Company with the bass up all the way.

Today'd be a good day to be doing that, actually...have a good weekend, everyone!

They know me too well...

I logged on to Amazon a little while ago to look up something I had no intention of buying. Of course when I got there my recommendations were waiting...the first one was Rats : Observations on the History and Habitat of the City's Most Unwanted Inhabitants, which, come to think of it, I have been meaning to get. Then The Complete Peanuts: 1950-1952, which I saw reviewed in Time this week and made a mental note to buy.

Click. Click. Into the cart.

Darn Amazon anyway. All I needed was to find an author for a friend...I didn't need to see "We have Biographies & Memoirs, Cooking, Food & Wine, Health, Mind & Body, and other Book Recommendations for you."

I already have four of the first six cookbooks they recommend, but cookbooks, that reminds me I was going to look for a vegetarian Indian cookbook. Oooh, Indian Vegetarian Cooking at Your House. Click. Or should I try New Indian Home Cooking: More Than 100 Delicious, Nutritional, and Easy Low-Fat Recipes? Or...why not both? Click.

And since I'm here, we were talking about Apollo 13 at work yesterday. (I actually want to use it in some training.) Click.

What's that? Now that I'm in the DVD section I oughta buy Slapshot? Luckily, Victor got that already, but it is a good call. So is Leslie Sansone...Click.

Whoa.

This is worse than crack, this Amazon addiction.

At least the shipping is free.

Attack of the Demon Snakehead Fish

In today's snakehead news:

In general, authorities sought to play down the threat posed by the fish, saying they were dangerous only to fish, not to people.

But Wintermoyer told a story that hinted otherwise.

He and his friend were debating what to do with the fish, which was lying on the ground inside the plastic bag. A park maintenance worker walked up, curious, and stuck his foot near the animal.

Suddenly, Wintermoyer said, the snakehead lunged.

"It put a pretty good tooth mark in his steel-toed boot," he said.

At least take a look at the picture. That is one seriously ugly mother...

If you happen to find yourself with an abundance of snakehead fish that aren't confiscated by your local department of natural resources, here are a few recipes:

Watercress Soup with Snakehead and Duck Gizzard

Steamed Snakehead Chaozhou Style

Fermented Snakehead Fish (with bacon!)

Once again (like with the cicadas), my darn food allergies prevent me from giving them a try, though.

The Snakeheads are back!

Victor stole my blog subject for today, but that's okay, because I have a new one...the snakeheads are back!

I read the news headlines on Nature Science Update most days, and today (or tomorrow, if you look at the date) I saw Return of the Snakehead. That sounds like a sequel to an actual Sci-Fi movie that sounds right up Ted's B-movie alley: Snakehead Terror. (It stars Bruce Boxleitner. I have to admit...ah, wait, I don't have to admit anything. Never mind.)

Anyway, Nature mentions that "some escaped northern snakeheads (Channa argus) did indeed cause a panic two years ago when they were caught by fishermen in Maryland."

Now, I live in Maryland, and I wouldn't say we were panicked, exactly. But it was a little weird, these biting fish that can apparently breathe a little air and slither from pond to pond being found in what was essentially a drainage pond behind a shopping center. I remembered a really funny piece in the Post about the snakeheads, so I went to the archive to see if I could find it.

Talk about amazing coincidence...my first hit on a search for "snakeheads" turned up a story from today. Apparently we have (cue horror movie music) a true Return of the Snakeheads !

Oh, but that name's been taken. How about Dawn of the Snakeheads? Revenge of the Snakeheads? Radioactive Snakeheads from Beyond the Terrible Deep?

I just hope Bruce Boxleitner shows up.

Sticker shock

I've been toying with the idea of going back to school. I really am just in the beginning stages of toying...right now it is little more than part of the "if I won the lottery" fantasy.

I think winning the lottery may play a bigger part in the scheme than I realized, though.

When I was at Maryland, tuition was $84 a credit hour.

I know it's gone up...and I've been vaugely aware of news about tuition continuing to increase if we don't start putting slot machines in race tracks or something...but I was a bit surprised to find it is now $505 a credit hour.

Whoa nelly.

Maybe I'll quit complaining about how when I was there our football and basketball teams sucked. At least I could afford 'em.

All waterfowl, all the time

I'm not the only one who cares!

I found this on the FAQ on a web page for Coalition to Prevent the Destruction of Canada Geese.

There is a pond where I work, and I couldn't help noticing this one lonely goose hanging around. He appears to be healthy, what might be wrong, if anything?

Of course, it is very difficult to know for absolute certainty why this goose is alone.

There are three common explanations for your observation. The first two assume that the lone goose is healthy and can fly.

The first possibility only applies in the spring during nesting season. Many people report seeing a lone goose hanging around a particular area. Typically the bird is a gander (the male) standing guard with a well-concealed mate on a nest nearby -- he only appears to be alone.

The second possible explanation is that the goose you observed has lost his or her mate. Geese are known to mourn by staying by themselves for a while (see next question/answer below).

Possible explanation 3: He was injured (shot at?) shortly before arriving on the scene and his internal injuries brought him down.

Of course, it is entirely possible that this goose has just strayed from his flock for a while.

If this goose appears to be healthy (and appears to be finding food and eating), then there is nothing to worry about and no need to do anything.

My To Do List

...is very long, and did not include a visit to a lake.

I may regret it tonight when I'm up past midnight trying to finish the laundry, write checks, and clean rat cages, but I had to pay a visit to the geese. And I was rewarded with hisses and honking and splashing, because dad goose is protecting his new family:

Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme

And basil, oregano, chives, tomatoes (Better Boy and Roma), sweet peppers, hot pepper, zucchini, yellow squash, and cucumber.

That's what I bought and planted today. However, I am a notoriously bad gardener, so chances are these plants will dead by the first of June, and I'll be hitting the farmer's markets. (Last year it was so cool and rainy I had what was, for me, a bumper crop...one prolific Roma tomato plant.)

For the moment, though, I am excited and full of hope, imagining salads and fresh pizza toppings...

TGIF

It's Friday, so my attention span is on the short side. Random items. Sentence fragments. Here goes.

I just had visitor number 3000. Okay, I know some people get that many visitors in a day. I'm flattered to get any, so I was gonna throw a little party, ring some bells, throw some confetti, make my special visitor feel important.

Except my visitor was just doing a google seach for "soup shoes." I was number 36 on that search, behind a lot of other really random stuff. But "soup shoes"? I have to wonder if Visitor was playing one of those Goggle games...

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Ted and Eric have the hockey playoff news well covered, and since the warm weather has me in a summer frame of mind, I'll move on to cycling. The Tour de Georgia is going on this week right here in the US. Even if you don't follow cycling much, there are some names here you might know: Bobby Julich. Jacky Durand. Mario Cipollini. Oh, and some Lance guy.

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Happy belated Earth Day: Nature has an analysis of organic farming that is interesting and looks fairly balanced. It's all chemicals, I like to say...but I do pay a lot of extra money for organic eggs.

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When my clock radio finally penetrated my congested head this morning, I heard the radio announcer say "Stay home if you are sick!" I thought he was talking to me. I rolled over, relieved...turns out he was reporting on this story:

Workers who come in sick cost their employers an average of $255 each per year, according to Cornell University labor researchers.

Sick employees have difficulty concentrating, work more slowly and have to repeat tasks, bogging down productivity, according to the study.

Of course, I work like that when I am well, too...especially on Fridays.

Have a good weekend!

Mary McGrory

It was a few years after she recived a Pulitzer for her Watergate commentary that I started reading Mary McGrory, but even as a wee young liberal I knew that an enemy of Richard Nixon was someone to admire.

What I really admired was her writing, as it was truly a craft. She could turn a phrase, or two, or several in a row. From her final column last March:

The hounds of spring are on winter's traces and so, of course, are the dogs of war. Who will win the race? The signs of spring are everywhere. Snowdrops bloom where snow was banked just yesterday. City workers have turned in their shovels for flats of pansies to plant around our trees.

The sounds of war grow louder every day.

The winter made the natives a little leery of Mother Nature. She was a harridan and a shrew this year, throwing snowstorms like tantrums, one after another. She divided a city already divided between war and peace even more. We split into two subdivisions, the plowed and the unplowed.

I've missed her columns since her stroke last year. I'd held out hope that perhaps she'd recover and return, but she passed away last night.

I wonder if she got Herblock to carry her bags when she got to the Pearly Gates.

Don't think and drive

So I'm on my way to work this morning...and while I'm not the type to eat, read the paper, and put on makeup while driving, I do think. This morning I was thinking about work...there's a contractor coming in today, and I am worried about whether I have everything ready for him, if I filled out the purchase order correctly, if I gave him the right directions to the Metro...and the pets...one of the older rats is doing poorly, and one of the babies was acting a little lethargic, and the dog's behavior was a bit off...and the fact that the house needs painting...and all the stuff at work I didn't finish yesterday...and I forgot to buy eggs...

...and next thing I know, I'm in the middle of an intersection where I've just run a red light. Now, I didn't hit anybody or anything...but I totally just ran a red light, which was still pretty bad.

Not an excuse...but the traffic pattern at the intersection recently changed. For almost 12 years I've been making a left turn there pretty much every morning. It used to be that you had a yield-on-green, but now the turn cycle is independent, and when the through lanes get the green, the left turn lane has a red. I guess I was on auto-pilot, and pulled into the intersection to make the left as soon as I had a break in traffic.

Everyone around me just kept going. No crash, no honking, nobody even flipped me off (that I noticed, anyway). No harm, no foul. Except whoa, it did throw me.

I look at this one two levels. One, as a safety professional, for me to perform a potentially hazardous task like driving with so little attention is horrible. I don't know how often I have lectured about this in safety training...always be aware of what you are doing.

Two, in regard to my exploration of philosophies and spirituality...I thought I'd been making some progress with mindfulness, staying present. Maybe I have, at least when I'm down by a lake communing with geese. I wasn't being particulary mindful when I turned through the red light, obviously, and that did occur to me as I sat in the middle of the intersection realizing what I'd done.

The first book about Buddhism I read was Buddhism Plain & Simple, by Steven Hagen. In it he says

When you realize you haven't been mindful, don't scold yourself. There's no need for it--in fact, it gets in your way. It's only necessary that you notice that you were not mindful although, of course, in doing so, you are being mindful.

So I have that, at least. And I have been a model citizen on the road for the rest of the day.

Apropos of Nothing

No matter how hard you try, you can't open a can of beans with a banana.

~Jim Schoenfeld (when coaching the Capitals, of course)

Out of the mouths of babes

I overheard a mother and son (I'm guessing 4 or 5 years old) at a restaurant downtown tonight. Mom asked the little boy what he'd seen in Washington today. The boy answered "Spongebob Squarepants...and that big white house where the president lives."

Natures's gym

Ah, great outdoors. I really needed this weekend...beautiful warm weather, without humidity, and a chance to play outside...to feel human again.

Yesterday was the first time I've ridden a bike since last August when we were ar the beach. Last summer, I think I did one ride in July (inspired by le Tour) that left me crippled for a few days, and the tooling around while on vacation. That was it.

Yesterday's 12 miles were looping through a local park. Except that the loops get pretty boring (there are not quite five miles of road to work with), I like riding there because it is mercifully quiet...there are cars, yes, but usually they aren't zooming around like madmen. And unlike the trails, where I won't ride anymore, there is plenty of room to share with the walkers/joggers/rollerbladers.

VeloNews' Patrick O'Grady sums up the dangers of mixed use trails a bit coarsely, but not wholly inaccurately, in his "foaming rant" last week:

Motorists say bicyclists impede traffic. Bicyclists say they are traffic. Pedestrians think traffic was a Seventies rock band featuring Stevie Winwood. They're listening to "The Low Spark of High-Heeled Boys" on their iPods as you ask them, over and over again, in a progressively louder tone of voice, if you can pass.

Cycling among a herd of pedestrians on a sunny spring day is like racing cyclo-cross in a feedlot. On the rare occasions when they actually see you coming, they either stand directly in your path with a blank stare, chewing their cuds, or scatter ponderously in all directions, bawling and shitting themselves.

Anyway, yesterday was my best "first ride back" in the last few years. I was winded on the hills, but not feeling like my lungs were on fire, and my knees didn't start crunching and aching 'til I'd been home for a few hours.

It's not only my knees that are sore, but that's not a fitness deficiency. I know there's a saddle out there somewhere with my butt's name on it, I just need to find it.

Given that soreness, I wasn't quite ready to ride again today, but I did need to get outside again. Victor and I took the dog up to another park (parks with lakes are one of my favorite things about living where I do) and did a little hike. We actually veered off the beaten path a little, got into the woods and had to use some different muscles to go up and down hills and over rocks...maybe a little too much work for a pudgy, middle-aged beagle with a heart condition. We cut it short when her tail stopped wagging, but once she got home to some food and the sofa she was perfectly fine again. (And she was completely ready for her after-dinner stroll tonight, so no need to worry that I gave her a heart attack.)

I definitely think the quickie gym and the walk aerobics have helped. I'm not in the shape I was when I was regularly riding 100, 120-mile weekends...but given the job and the pets and the house, I may not be able to do that again until I retire (assuming the knees hold up). The gym & video system is a maintenance plan so that when the good weather finally does come around I can ride and hike (and paddle, I hope, once the boat rentals open...I am going to try conquering my aquaphobia with a canoe) on the weekends and still be able to move on Monday.

Thanks, I needed that

I found the antidote to this week:

80 degrees and sunny
12.5 miles of lightly-travelled road
Lots of geese
A Mexican restaurant with patio seating
Free wine tasting
Lawn chairs, beers, and a grill
Genuine physical exhaustion

That fruit salad with those little marshmallows*

My mom made that fruit salad with those little marshmallows for Easter. I love that salad...it's such a sweet, gloopy mess, and to me it's an early harbinger of summer. And pure white-trash cooking, too. I collect those little spiral bound fundraiser cookbooks...those things churches and ladies auxillary groups do with collected recipes from their members...and Ambrosia (the real name for that fruit salad with those little marshmallows) is always in there at least once.

(So is a carrot thing called Copper Pennies. Has anybody ever had that?)

Anyway, an Ambrosia recipe...in case your grandmother and mother didn't make it for every family potluck from Easter to Thanksgiving:

Drain and dump into a mixing bowl:

A can of pineapple chunks
A can of fruit cocktail
A can of mandarin oranges
Personally, I like extra maraschino cherries. My mom still doesn't put them in for me, but one of my aunts always made hers that way.
A carton of sour cream or yogurt
Chopped nuts
Shredded coconut

Mix and chill. This is best served in a Tupperware bowl, either the vintage pale green plastic or one from the '70s earth-tone collection of harvest gold or burnt orange. Ok, maybe that's just for me.

Speaking of fruit salad and the 70's...

I have a very vivid memory of a family dinner party at the home of some friends of my parents. The wife was a Tupperware Lady, and had made a pistachio-pineapple salad in the Tupperware ring mold. I still remember her saying "It's a Watergate salad because the nuts look like bugs!"

Yeah, jokes about bugs and Watergate...seems like yesterday. Where does the time go?

Now you can eat bugs and nobody even thinks to make a Watergate joke. I'm serious about the bug eating. The Post reports that some people are actually looking forward to the emergence of the 17-year cicadas because they find them...crunchy.

John Zyla, an amateur naturalist in Ridge, in southern St. Mary's County, suggests laying a few dozen on a cookie sheet and baking them in a 350-degree oven for five minutes.

Then serve with toothpicks and a selection of condiments for dipping, ranging from sweet to savory: chocolate sauce, honey, melted cheese, ketchup, mustard.

Well, I do try to try new things. But sadly, I think I'll have to pass on cicadas. According to the article, "shrimp and lobsters, part of the same biological phylum that includes bugs, are essentially sea insects," and I am allergic to shrimp and lobster. Don't want to take any chances, after all. But let me know if you want to try it, maybe we can do a potluck. I'll bring that fruit salad with those little marshmallows.

* Two MASH references in a week!

2fer post: Quorn and McDonald's

I didn't used to like meat substitutes. I tried some soy burgers years ago and found them lacking, and since I wasn't giving up meat totally anyway, I didn't see a reason to substitute fake for the real thing. I ate bean chili and tacos, and vegetable sandwiches, and just left meat out of dishes where I didn't need it, like spaghetti sauce and pizza.

In attempting to expand the non-meat meal options, though, I started trying it again. I don't know if my tastes have changed or if the food technology has improved, but I have no trouble eating veggie or soy patties instead of hamburgers. I still prefer my chili with just beans, but I have found good seitan taco fillings. And I love Quorn*, a fermented mycofungus...which doesn't sound very appealing...but it tastes, well, remarkably like chicken. (It may also taste like beef, but I haven't tried the beefy-flavored stuff.)

I've made Quorn parmesan, buffalo Quorn sandwiches, and just eaten it plain.

Today a vegetarian friend was asking me if they made Quorn meatballs (yes; they are new) and I ended up on the Quorn UK web page. It's been availale in Europe a lot longer than it has here, and they have way more types available...sliced sandwich Quorn. Quorn Pâté. Tikka Masala Quorn with Pilau Rice. I am so jealous.

This is the one that really got me, though: McQuorn.

Ok, it's actually called "Quorn premire," a "succulent Quorn fillet topped with sweet chilli sauce, Hellmann's extra light mayonnaise, tomato and lettuce all in a foccacia bun."

Foccacia bun?

Hey. We don't have foccacia buns here. What else does McDonald's have for the Brits that we don't get?

Well, they have a grilled chicken caprese (grilled chicken breast, topped with basil sauce, a slice of cheese made with mozzarella, rocket, tomato and onion all in a tasty sun-dried tomato and olive bun), another chicken sandwich with sour cream and chive sauce and salsa, and a cheeseburger with Emmental.

This is sorta silly, I guess, but I got a real kick out of looking at the web page...so familiar, yet not quite. Which lead me to check out other McDonald's around the world...

In Australia, they have a Vege burger with a chickpea patty, and cheese and tomato sandwiches for breakfast.

In India (where I can't imagine hamburgers being terribly popular), they have a Paneer Salsa Wrap...and interestingly, a Chicken Mexican Wrap. One of the Happy Meals is a McAloo Tikki. They also keep the cooking areas for the vegetarian and meat products completely separate, which is cool.

Uruguay has the McHuevo, a burger with a poached egg.

In Italy they have an interesting-looking square sandwich and I think maybe shrimp, but I don't spreak a word of Italian so I don't know for sure.

Wow. And I was excited when they added that good Newman's Own dressing here in the US.

*Quorn footnote...some people, particularly those who are sensitive to mold, can have significant adverse reactions to Quorn. The Center for Science in the Public Interest has called for it to be banned, a move I disagree with (people are allergic to milk and peanuts, too, but you don't see a movement to ban their sales)...but I do think the potential hazards should be well communicated.

Lightening up

Okay, I'm gonna lighten up today. No work, no whining. The sun is out. My taxes are in. (I can't understand why people wait 'til April 15 to do their taxes. It's not like the due date is some random day that's just revealed at the last minute. Of course, I also fail to understand why people try to go Christmas shopping just before the malls close on December 24.) I just paid off my car. And I don't have little bits of metal stuck in my eyes.

It's all the rage in the Netherlands:

The procedure involves inserting a 0.13 inch wide piece of specially developed jewelry -- the range includes a glittering half-moon or heart -- into the eye’s mucous membrane under local anaesthetic at a cost of $610 to $1,232. ...

The piece of jewelry is inserted in the conjunctiva -- the mucous membrane lining the inner surface of the eyelids and front of the eyeball -- in sterile conditions using an operating microscope in a procedure taking about 15 minutes.

And to think I am too chicken to get Lasik.

I dunno...sticking things in your eyes for fun? I wonder if that's related in any way to the hash bars...

Section 8

A co-worker stuck her head in my office and said "Hey, Nic, your widowed goose is out front."

She was teasing me. Nobody is particulary concerned about the goose. This particular co-worker is also aware of my disappointment in not being demoted out of the management ranks, and I'd whined to her earlier today.

"I'm going to adopt the goose," I said. "Maybe I'll get him a wading pool and put it here in my office."

She shook her head.

I said "You know, if I adopt a goose, maybe they'll decide that I'm such a whackjob that I can't be trusted to manage a department."

"Every manager in the company is crazy," she said.

"But nobody has a goose. That is beyond normal crazy. I'll be like Klinger!"

Walking away, she reminded me "He never got his Section 8 either, Nic. They just cancelled his show."

Is whining about work work-related use of the Internet?

Theoretically I can be fired for non-work-related use of the Internet (like, oh, blogging) on my company computer. It doesn't keep me up nights worrying about it (remember the Dilbert where Pointy-Haired Boss has Catbert fire everyone for Internet violations, and they are the only ones left?). Some days I even think, hey, maybe they will fire me...ooooh, don't throw me into that briar patch.

Then I remember that pesky mortgage and my love of eating.

Today, though...the big boss rejected my demotion plan. So much for the light at the end of the tunnel. ...

And here I have just come back to very heavily edit out the rest of the details about what put me in a rotten mood...because Victor suggested that I may have been a little too specific about it. I don't think anyone from work is likely to stumble through here, but I guess it is in the realm of possibility. And since I lean toward paranoia anyway, his suggestion made me super-paranoid-ultra.

So, uh...forget what I said, if you already read it.

(This is like the message "If this fax was sent to you in error, please notify us and destroy all copies...")

I think I can keep in the original ending, though:

I may have a nervous breakdown, but not a heart attack.

Wow, I thought it was just me

Interesting-sounding paper in the journal Behaviour and Information Technology: "Why are Mobile Phones Annoying?"

Ha! Want a list?

No, actually, it's not a list, it's a study. From the abstract:

Sixty four members of the public were exposed to the same staged conversation either while waiting in a bus station or travelling on a train. Half of the conversations were by mobile phone, so that only one end of the conversation was heard, and half were co present face-to-face conversations. The volume of the conversations was controlled at one of two levels: the actors' usual speech level and exaggeratedly loud. Following exposure to the conversation participants were approached and asked to give verbal ratings on six scales. Analysis of variance showed that mobile phone conversations were significantly more noticeable and annoying than face-to-face conversations at the same volume when the content of the conversation is controlled.

I'm pretty sure I know why I'm annoyed by mobile phones. I just didn't realize it was universal.

Jakob Nielsen's Alertbox summarized the data. The one thing I would be interested in was the scripts of the annoying conversations. The one thing that does make a difference as to whether I'm annoyed or maybe entertained (in a voyeristic way) is the content.

Last time I overheard a significantly long cell phone conversation on public transportation, I got caught up in the drama...from what I was able to gather, the guy on the train had called a partner/someone he wished was a partner who was out of town on a job interview. The person had been offered the job and was thinking about a quick move, which had the cell phone guy looking and sounding really alarmed. To make him even more crestfallen, he offered to help drive out to the new place and help with the move, but after a long pause he said "Oh. Well. I guess maybe once you have settled in, then..."

At which point we pulled into the last station and I missed the rest, but at that point the result was pretty clear anyway. I actually felt sorta sorry for the guy, but on the other hand, I applauded the decision of the person on the other end for having the good sense to get rid of him. Having loud private conversations in the Metro is certainly not a quality to look for in a partner, after all.

Duck duck goose

It has been cool and very rainy here. "Nice day, if you're a duck," my mom used to say about this kind of weather. I'm not sure about ducks, but I did see a goose on the sidewalk after work today. I actually see him around the building pretty frequently, and it concerns me, because somebody told me once that lone geese don't survive very long. Apparently they need the rest of the flock, or at least a mate, or they starve to death, because geese take turns eating and standing guard. If there isn't another goose around to watch his back, a goose won't be able to put his head down to feed.

I haven't been able to verify if this is true, but if it is, it seems really sad. I'd like to set up a little sanctuary or something where the single geese could re-flock and a form new social bonds. If nothing else, I could act as watcher while they ate. I have offered to do as much for the goose at work, but every time I talk to him he runs away, his big web feet fwap-fwap-fwaping across the parking lot...

Actually, now that I think about it, in the parking lot there is evidence that either the goose has friends or that he is eating. "Through a goose," as they say.

I will sleep better tonight, now that I've realized that.

Oh, and I was thinking about geese for a reason. I set up a little online photo gallery on this domain. Right now there's nothing on it but snapshots I took Saturday while I was playing with my new camera (most of the pictures are of geese; that's the connection), but it's another cool feature on my new site. I am like a kid in a candy store right now!

Almost Darwin awards

The helpful folks at the California Department of Pesticide Regulation put out a press release last week urging people to not to poison themselves or blow things up. They didn't put too fine a point on it:

Flowers are blooming, bugs are buzzing, and people are making dumb mistakes with pesticides -- so it must be spring.

The best part of this was the top 10 list ("None of the following cases resulted in death...") at the end. My favorites:

A Contra Costa homeowner discovered sewer rats were entering his home through a toilet. He bought an incendiary device intended for gophers and other burrowing pests, and dropped it down a plumbing vent on his roof. The device melted a plastic elbow in the pipe and the roof caught fire, causing $80,000 in damage before firefighters could extinguish the blaze.

In Stanislaus County, a 38-year-old woman found a home remedy for head lice on the Web. She then applied eight ounces of dog flea-and-tick shampoo and olive oil to her scalp, and wrapped her head in cellophane for five hours. Her scalp began to itch and burn. She felt shaky and also experienced nausea and drooling.

A San Francisco physician over-treated his closet with mothballs. When he wore clothes from the closet, he began to feel dizzy, nauseated, and suffered loss of muscular coordination. The first time, he recovered in fresh air. The second time, he went to an emergency room and was hospitalized overnight to rule out a stroke before the problem was traced to excessive mothball fumes.

There was one stupid human trick in here that made me turn red, though, because I've done it:

In Los Angeles County, a woman diluted bleach in a cup to clean it, then forgot about it and went to bed. The next morning, she warmed the cup of liquid and took a sip before remembering the cup contained bleach. In a similar incident, a Sonoma homeowner left a cup of bleach solution that she had used for cleaning on her bathroom counter. She got up at midnight and drank from the cup. Her throat began to burn and she vomited.

I used to use bleach to get rid of the moldy Gatorade residue in my bike bottles. I'd just fill them with dilute bleach and let them sit on the counter for a day or two. Victor once grabbed one of the bottles to use without emptying it. We both learned a lesson...he doesn't use my bottles, and I remember to use the lab rule of labeling unattended secondary containers of chemicals.

Actually, I decided that since bottles go on sale for $1.99, the moldy ones go into the recycle bin. Safer for everyone that way.

Hell of the North

Magnus Backstedt won the Paris-Roubaix bicycle race today. I missed all but the last ten minutes of the tv coverage, so by the time I turned in on they were already in the velodrome. It wasn't rainy today, though, so it wasn't quite the crazy, dramatic mud bog that it can be sometimes.

Paris-Roubaix is a single-day race known for a good part of the course being run over cobblestone streets. Those of you with road bikes know how well those skinny tires transmit every bump and rut; can you imagine cobblestones? And when it rains, those cobbles are viciously slick, not to mention muddy.

There are pictures, like this one from 2001, where riders are barely recognizable. Postal's George Hincapie, by the way, had a good shot at winning that race but for a flat tire. That's one of the things that makes cycling so exciting to watch, you can never be sure of an outcome 'til the end.

In non-racing cycling news, the Cofidis team is in the middle of a big doping scandal. I'm not much of a Cofidis fan (mostly because of the way they dropped Armstrong in the middle of his cancer treatment), but I'll be really sorry if these allegations are true, especially if David Millar is really involved. Mostly because I get my cycling news from English-language sites, the English/Australian/American riders are the ones I know most about, so they sort of become my favorites by default.

Actually, I think Millar is a Scot, but you get my drift. Anyway, I like him, and I'll be disappointed if he ends up busted.

It is giving me something to think about besides hockey, though.

Thanks for clearing that up

I'm still playing with that new camera. Sign at an Exxon I passed yesterday:

Rats, I was hoping I could get a quick lipid profile done while they rotated the tires.

Well, here I am in my new home, and honestly I'm feeling a little shy. I'm not sure if I oughta be reintroducing myself or what. I wanted to start off all witty and insightful, but that was just too much pressure. I'll just take a deep breath and imagine the readers in their underwear pretend nothing has changed...

Oh, and happy Easter to those celebrating today, whether it's religiously or with chocolate bunnies.

Hyakujo's Fox

Once when Hyakujo delivered some Zen lectures an old man attended them, unseen by the monks. At the end of each talk when the monks left so did he. But one day he remained after the had gone, and Hyakujo asked him: `Who are you?'

The old man replied: `I am not a human being, but I was a human being when the Kashapa Buddha preached in this world. I was a Zen master and lived on this mountain. At that time one of my students asked me whether the enlightened man is subject to the law of causation. I answered him: "The enlightened man is not subject to the law of causation." For this answer evidencing a clinging to absoluteness I became a fox for five hundred rebirths, and I am still a fox. Will you save me from this condition with your Zen words and let me get out of a fox's body? Now may I ask you: Is the enlightened man subject to the law of causation?'

Hyakujo said: `The enlightened man is one with the law of causation.'

At the words of Hyakujo the old man was enlightened. `I am emancipated,' he said, paying homage with a deep bow. `I am no more a fox, but I have to leave my body in my dwelling place behind this mountain. Please perform my funeral as a monk.' The he disappeared.

The next day Hyakujo gave an order through the chief monk to prepare to attend the funeral of a monk. `No one was sick in the infirmary,' wondered the monks. `What does our teacher mean?'

After dinner Hyakujo led the monks out and around the mountain. In a cave, with his staff he poked out the corpse of an old fox and then performed the ceremony of cremation.

That evening Hyakujo gave a talk to the monks and told this story about the law of causation.

Obaku, upon hearing this story, asked Hyakujo: `I understand that a long time ago because a certain person gave a wrong Zen answer he became a fox for five hundred rebirths. Now I was to ask: If some modern master is asked many questions, and he always gives the right answer, what will become of him?'

Hyakujo said: `You come here near me and I will tell you.'

Obaku went near Hyakujo and slapped the teacher's face with this hand, for he knew this was the answer his teacher intended to give him.

Hyakujo clapped his hands and laughed at the discernment. `I thought a Persian had a red beard,' he said, `and now I know a Persian who has a red beard.'

Mumon's comment: `The enlightened man is not subject.' How can this answer make the monk a fox?

`The enlightened man is at one with the law of causation.' How can this answer make the fox emancipated?

To understand clearly one has to have just one eye.

Controlled or not controlled?
The same dice shows two faces.
Not controlled or controlled,
Both are a grievous error.

Why it's nice to have a camera

It's a...boat-car?

I broke down and got the new camera. I am weak. I am ashamed. I am loving it, though.

And if I hadn't taken a picture, would I have been able to explain the boat-car?

Ok...I can't explain it. Bit a few Google searches later...looks like it's an Amphicar.

Take my job. Please.

I asked for a demotion yesterday. My boss called me to say that I needed to turn in my position justification for a new staff person within the next week, and while I was talking to him I asked if it would be okay if I wrote the justification for a manager. After a second, he said "Uh, wouldn't that be you?"

I've realized this for awhile...I'm miserable in my job the way my job has evolved. I still like the subjects, chemicals and safety. But I don't like managing, and my real skills, writing and editing, are slipping. I've taken more sick days in the last six months than I have the previous six years. Something's gotta give, and replacing me with a competent manager and letting me go back to a cubicle to research and write seems like the perfect solution.

My boss said his boss might not go for it, but if it's what I really want (in that tone people use when you've just suggested something totally nuts) I can write the justification up that way.

Of course I have a backup plan for changing jobs, too. In the course of our conversation my boss told me about a decision by a very high level person that leaves us screwed and makes no logical sense. My reaction was "Does he have a brain tumor that's impairing his cognative function?" I could hear that sharp intake of breath before my boss said "Nic, I don't think I can comment on that on the company phone line."

I think my boss may not totally hate the demotion idea.

Good Friday

A friend of mine gave me a quart of matzo ball soup yesterday. I love matzo ball soup, and she had quite a lot left over from her Passover Seder. We started talking about Passover and Lent, because she's a little bit like I am, questioning aspects of her religion and essentially non-practicing. Still, though, she found that the traditions, including the restrictions, were pretty much hard wired. Even after deciding that some of the "rules" were arbitrary, she couldn't bring herself to break them.

I haven't been a practicing Catholic for about 15 years, and for the last several years I have actually thought about it sufficiently that I have to go beyond non-practicing to say, in all honesty, non-believing. I'm not sure what I do believe, but it's not the Nicene Creed. "One Church" is too limiting...

But I'm still hard wired for things like not eating meat on lenten Fridays, and I'm acutely aware that today, Good Friday, is the one day of the year I can't run back. (And I almost typed that as "run home" which tells me something...) There is no Eucharist.

The memorial service for my friend was non-denominational Christian. One of the prayers was Native American. I was struck, as usual, by how faith makes death easier to take, and I suspect pretty strongly that that's why I'm grasping for it...so I can feel more at peace with death...and since I'm selfish, I also suspect it's particularly my own that's got me worried.

Back to Good Friday. I considered going to see The Passion of the Christ tonight, but in the end I'm wimping out. I don't want to deal with the blood. I read St. John instead, and thought about what happened. Not being able to say whether Jesus was the Son of God or just some guy who thought he was, I still found a lot to think about, particularly in the betrayals by Judas and Peter. I like to think I could never sell out anybody like Judas did, but I can certainly see myself saying "Nope, don't know that guy. With him? Uh-uh, I was just walking by. Not a friend of mine..." until I heard the cock crow. I think about the times that I have not defended people, and things I've said about people, and I know I've been there.

And no one deserved what happened to Jesus. Without necessarily believing the resurrection part, without knowing if he was the son of God, he was a human and a creation of whatever force put this all in motion (that's the extent of the faith I know I have...there's something greater there). People don't deserve to be tortured and killed. I'll go out on a limb and say that torturing and killing anyone is torturing and killing a child of God. And for that matter, how I treat any child of God is a reflection of my respect for God. Or it may be how I'm treating God: Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers, that
you do unto me.

Finishing up Lent with some heavy thoughts, I am. I will come back tomorrow with something light, I promise.

And I'm not blonde

I got home from work today and tried to open the front door by waving my badge/keycard over the lock...

Peeps!

I have a love/hate relationship with Peeps. I love that they are a fun bit of Americana. I think they are cute as...well, little marshmallow chicks. What's cuter? I love the bizarre Peep subculture.

But as food...they are revolting.

As a joke, Victor enrolled me in the Peeps fan club. I proudly wear my Peeps t-shirt. But don't ask me to eat the nasty things.

Just Born has tried to expand Peeps to a year 'round thing, but of course Easter is still the prime Peep season. For your Peep viewing pleasure:

The official Peeps site
Scientific experiments on Peeps (Horrified? Then visit Ban Peeps Research!)
Peeps in Space
Lord of the Peeps

Some people have a little too much time on their hands, but at least they use that time creatively. Then there are those of us surfing the Peeps sites...

Oh, and from a few Easters ago...here's my Peep taking a little trip to the Lincoln Memorial.

Watching a train of thought derail

I finally tried the black bean brownies. They actually do taste just like regular brownies. Nutritionally they still aren't exactly health food, but still...half a cup of fat, or a can of black beans?

I still prefer black bean burritos to brownies though, at least most of the time. I never used to get the typical female food cravings, but since the endometriosis kicked into high gear, now I do actually seek chocolate at times. Sunday, actually, I was feeling really lousy, but because it had only been two weeks since my last shot, I knew it wasn't that time. Then at the grocery store I had an uncontrollable urge to buy a German chocolate cake...

Yep, I now know to put more stock in inexplicable cake purchases rather than the calendar. Stupid hormones.

I just started reading Food & Mood, speaking of hormones. I don't know that I'll follow the diet (my diet is actually pretty close to what's in the book, actually, except for the fish), but I'm digging the chemistry. And the chemistry scientifically supports the whole mind-body-connectedness thing.

I picked up another book related to the mind-body thing, too...when I don't crave chocolate, I crave books...Destructive Emotions: A Scientific Dialogue with the Dalai Lama. I've been thinking alot about how destructive my thoughts and emotions can be and I'm trying to train myself away from that mindset, but what a struggle...especially for someone as used to instant gratification as I am. That is, I don't want to struggle with it, I just want to be fixed now. Bam, make me compassionate. I have no patience.

Over the weekend I decided my digital camera is shot. (This is also about my lack of patience, honest.) Every picture I take is blurry; I think I dropped it once too often. I'm coveting a digital SLR (coveting being another vice I oughta be trying to shake, whether in this new philosophy or in my old religion) but I can't justify that expense. I own a couple decent 35mm cameras and several lenses, but film...it takes at least an hour to get my pictures back if I shoot film! No, now that I've gone digital there's no going back. That's what I mean about my instant gratification problem.

I am at least just shopping for the new camera, instead of just buying one an hour after deciding I wanted it. So maybe there is hope.

And here the train of thought derails. I am going to go eat more brownies now...

Playoff time

Eric over at Off-Wing Opinion is looking for Stanley Cup predictions. Me, I don't make 'em...I suck at predicting. I have no real hockey sense, I just have sentimental favorites.

So here's my biased, unscientific, abjectly sentimental look at the first round.

The East:
Tampa Bay - NY Islanders...Bad memories of both teams there. Sigh. Let's just keep going.

Boston - Montreal...Even though I've never even been to Quebec, I'd never be sorry to see the Habs win the Cup. From fading hands the torch is passed...regardless of who is actually wearing the sweater. And I'm not a huge fan of Boston fans, but I still wish Sergei Gonchar the best. So it doesn't matter.

Philadelphia - New Jersey...Speaking of not being a fan of the fans, whew, the Flyers. (I was a huge Bobby Clarke fan as a child, but I think I was just being contrary.) On the other hand, I don't like dynasties, either (Canadiens excepted, of course). Share the wealth.

Toronto - Ottawa...This is a tough one. Except for his knack for taking bad penalties, I like Ken Klee, and I love Calle Johansson. I'd definitely be happy to see his name on a Cup. Not that I wouldn't be just as happy for Bondra, and I actually do have family in Ottawa (and Kanata, even.) Frankly, I think I'm rooting for the winner of this series to go all the way.

In the West:
Detroit - Nashville... Easy. Nashville. Hey, I can believe in miracles.

San Jose - St. Louis...Interestingly, my connection to these two teams are vicariously through blog friends Ted and Heather, respectively. If Al MacInnis were still playing I'd have to pull for the Blues; but as it is I can go either way. (Maybe I oughta see if Ted or Heather is interested in paying me off to root for the other team, seeing as how my support is so often the Kiss of Death.)

Vancouver - Calgary...These games will be on past my bedtime. I think I'm going to have to go with Calgary, and it has nothing to do with the current rosters (well, maybe Chris Simon a little.) Nope, it's because a guy named Dale brought some light into my hockey-starved world when I was living in the Deep South. That was back before the NHL migration began, of course. One night I was sitting in a bar where I spent lots and lots of money so they would pull in hockey games for me on their satellite, and this guy came over and said "Hey, have you seen a score for the Calgary game?" When I heard him say Cal-GARY I said "Buddy, pull up a chair." Dale joined me in watching hockey from then on, and soon other hockey fans came out of the closet to join us. We even had a tv devoted to hockey the night of the Auburn - Alabama football game, that's how powerful our little band was...Wow, I'm getting misty. Anyway, I presume Dale is still a CalGARY fan, so in his hono(u)r, I'll be one, too.

Colorado - Dallas...The Avalance. David Aebischer is a feel-good story, and Victor is a huge Steve Konowalchuk fan. And I have some friends in Denver...no, wait, they might be in Boulder. Wherever, they certainly aren't in Dallas. I will say I like the fact that the Stars have some old guys, and I have to look hard to find players older than I am anymore.

Yep, at this point I'm rooting for series that come down to seven games...tight defense...brillant breakaways...no injuries. Enjoy.

Grocery shopping

I am in line at the grocery store at dinner time on a Friday night. It’s the express lane, but the person at the register hasn’t got the money ready and has stalled our progress. I’m behind two women, an older one buying steaks and salad greens, and a younger one buying the Post, a coffee cake, ice cream and tampons. She is still dressed for work, a blazer and slacks and tasteful jewelry. She’s in her early thirties, with styled blonde hair and perfect nails, and I feel like a troll standing next to her. After me in line is a guy about the same age, wearing shorts and shoes without socks, also with just a few dinner items. He’s looking past me and toward the nice-looking woman.

The next line over there is another guy in shorts with two blond boys, maybe 8 and 6. The woman opens her wallet and takes out two registered-mail receipts, which she hands over the conveyor belt to the father. “Here’s the receipt for the taxes,” she says.

“Did you have any trouble getting them out?” he asks.

She says no. The boys have bounced over to the gum ball machines and back to their father, who taps the older one on the back. “What time is his game tomorrow?” he asks.

“Two, I think, but I have to check the schedule.”

“It’s at two,” the boy says.

“Check the schedule,” says the father.

This is odd, I think. Were they trying to make the shopping trip go faster by getting in competing express lanes?

“Matt, are you wearing a bathing suit?” asks the mother.

The older boy grins. “It’s a Billibong,” he says, lifting his t-shirt up to display the label on the leg.

The younger boy flings himself through our line and hugs his mother’s legs. “Thank you,” she says, kissing his head.

The father is at the head of his line, and the boys return to his side as the cashier bags their dinner: spaghetti, sauce, bread, ice cream. Same kind of ice cream as the mother.

The light begins to dawn. I glance back at the guy behind me; he is also watching the father and sons.

“He must be young, still,” says the older woman with the steaks.

“Pardon?” asks the mother.

“To still let you kiss him in public.”

“Oh,” she says. “Well, we’re separated, so I don’t see him as often...” her voice trails, and the older woman looks abashed as she devotes all her attention to paying for her groceries.

As the father and boys leave, he says “Call tonight with the schedule.”

“I will,” she says, and calls after the children, who have gone ahead, “Bye, Matt! Bye, Chance! See you tomorrow!” Then her smile goes off like she flipped a switch and she looks down at the food on the belt. I turn away to see the guy behind me suddenly absorbed in his basket too.

Not with a bang, but a whimper*

Last home game today...finally.

Before the game I stopped at the bike store. I was wearing an old logo Caps shirt, but that wasn't something I was thinking about...I have a very large collection of Caps clothes, and I wasn't wearing it because of the game. My shirt choice came to haunt me, though, when I walked into the shop and the clerk greeted me with "What's red, white and blue and plays golf?"

I looked at him blankly.

"The Washington Capitals!" he said, cracking himself up.

Oh. Yeah. That gem. "Actually, the punchline is "plays golf in April," I said, in a voice that I hope dripped acid.

Yet another clerk tried engaging me in a conversation about a local sportcaster's criticisms of the team. Because the sportscaster in question has spent 30 years not understanding hockey and covering the Caps only to highlight negativity, I disengaged from that conversation as quickly as possible.

I'm in a bike store, for the love of Mike. Let's discuss whether Jan Ulrich can beat Armstrong this year.

Anyway...Caps lost to the almost-as-sad Rangers in OT. To add insult to injury...we took my 5-year-old niece, and her main goal for the game was to meet Slapshot, the mascot. Most nights Slapshot is running around the concourse and the seats and you have trouble escaping him; today he was nowhere to be found.

The Caps did start 32-year-old minor leauger Mel Angelstad in his first NHL game. I saw his stats and said "goon," but then found this article on the AHL web page and reassessed.

Might not be the feel-good story of the year, but for this year it will have to do.

*In the years when we used to see playoff hopes abruptly dashed by the Islanders or the Penguins, a friend of mine, Caps fan and English major, put an outgoing message on his answering maching: "T.S Eliot was obviously a Capitals fan; otherwise why would he have written "April is the cruelest month"?

Walking on

Last weekend's Post had an article about the charity walk trend. Ever trendy, I started the season last week with the Columbia's Cure 5K.

Next up:

MS Walk
March of Dimes Walk America
Arthritis Walk
Komen National Race for the Cure

These are all charities I support, but of course my real reason for doing the walks is my t-shirt fetish.

Thoughts

Some thoughts from the memorial service for my friend last night:

When I heard the news Monday that the victim of Friday's hit and run was a friend of mine, I was furious at the driver. Enraged, especially when I heard that charges had not been filed. (I haven't been able to find out yet if they have; newer fatal accidents have pushed this item off the news in the last week. I may never know.)

During the service last night the singer did a piece with no actual words. I can't really describe it...it was almost like a wail, or a scream, except it was melodic and beautiful. While I listened I thought about the person who killed my friend. I've been full of hate and anger at this person, but maybe part of that is because it's the most convenient way to make sense of a sudden and shocking death, finding someone responsible and blaming him.

I doubt the driver got up Friday morning looking to kill someone. And while it was so wrong for him to leave the scene, I can think of many reasons why he might have done it. And I can't say for sure that in a moment of horror and fear I might not make the wrong decision myself. I've also had the fear that my actions, however unintentional, might cause someone else's death or injury. I don't know how I'd live with myself, and for all I know, the driver is trying to figure that out himself right now.

It is not for me to hate the driver, and that's one thing that I realized during the service last night. Besides, doing it just takes away from thinking about my friend, which is far more appropriate.

I saw a lot of people last night that I've been out of touch with lately. We all said the same thing...it's such a shame it takes these circumstances to get us together. I'd like to say I know better now, I'll take the time to write and call and make plans, but I know that's not the case because I've said the same thing to people at funerals before. It's a simple fact that in the ebb and flow you end up close to different people at different times. I'm just grateful we still get washed back together when we need each other.

I knew my friend pretty much in one context only (from the AIDS Ride), and though we talked about his work some (he was in a field in which I'm interested but not terribly knowledgeable), there were sides to him I never knew. Listening to people speak last night I realized, wow, I wish I'd known him better. Much like knowing I'm not really going to be seeing old friends more often because I saw them last night, I don't think I'll really be trying to get to know people better because of this realization. I want to remember, though, that everyone (not just my friends and aquaintances) is more complex and interesting and talented than I realize.

There may be more. I think that my...spiritual search, if you will...is to come to peace with death, and I have a long way to go.

Free Radicals

I always think of the movie Never Say Never Again when I hear the term "free radical." It's after M has decided to send Bond off to the health spa, and Bond tells Miss Moneypenny his new mission is to "eliminate all free radicals." She's very concerned and impressed when she says "Do be careful."

The Food section of yesterday's Post has a great non-technical explaination of what free radicals and antioxidants are. For example:

Electrons, not unlike humans, strongly prefer to snuggle together in pairs. So the unpaired electron in a free radical makes the molecule very needy and unstable. At the slightest opportunity, it will snatch an electron from one of the pairs in a nearby molecule, like a predatory bachelor breaking up a marriage.