It was time for Nigella’s classic: roqumole.  Not guacamole, not really anything ordinary - just damn good.  The mash of sour cream, blue cheese, avocado and jalapeno slices is pungent, powerful and rich.  Strangely enough, it lacks lime, salt and cilantro though you’d never notice.  And while it’s even better when said out loud with a British accent, plain and simple it rocks!

Natalie quickly agreed to eat it again and we’ll experiment to make it as kid friendly as possible.  The jalapenos weren’t over the top, but might need an adjustment.  An initial idea is to use only the juice from the jar to still achieve that vinegary bite.

On to the main course - (and utter kid-friendliness) - flash-fried steaks and white bean mash

The premise is simple: thin steaks in the skillet, 90 seconds per side; the juice of a lemon to scrape up and sauce up the bits; plated and done.  Meanwhile the cans of white beans are mashed into warm olive oil, garlic and lemon zest.  Done!

Nigella proposed a 5 minute overall time frame, but much like a certain cook’s 30 minute goal - it’s a bit of a stretch.  10 minutes would suffice to make this tender and flavorful dish.  Perhaps the 5 refers to the time necessary to clean every inch of your plate.  There’s nothing about this recipe that needs to be fiddled with.  Just bookmark the page and return again and again.

When Nigella is a guest on NPR, the number of auto accidents skyrockets.  Drooling, I listen to her describe a latest dish - the accent, the attitude is intoxicating.  As I arrive at my destination I have a renewed spring in my step and am ready to take on the day.

That’s what eating well and cooking well can do.
And I want to do it, too.

During this holiday season, I’ve received three of her books.  In the style of Julie & Julia, though, I won’t be cooking my way through them in this next year’s time.  I’m going after something all-together different (yet perhaps a bit of the same).  I’m to cook,eat or both with heart.  With love, confidence and an attitude that may also be contagious.

Sunday the 27th

Dates wrapped in bacon and fried to crispy perfection

I pulled this from Sunset and was pleased with the results.  They didn’t unroll in the pan and looked quite appetizing.  They lacked a little sweetness, but I have plans for round 2.

Baked brie with truffled honey

Can’t go wrong with a classic like this.  The honey crisp apples were a nice pairing.

Cypress Grove chevre - Bermuda Triangle

I was a newbie to this triangle of rinded goodness.  Whoa.  We’re talking creamy, salty goodness - and a choice that I’ll make again and again.

Someday some scientist will realize that Stella is a force.  Not unbridled pure energy, not magnetic nor radioactive.  But something.  And this isn’t a complaint, just my observation.  I don’t actually dwell on this too often since I’m bounced back and forth, up and down by my children.

I have to stop, though, and look at it all through her eyes.  We all must seem like sloths - slowly going about business.  To her, it seems our business, our lives aren’t interesting or important.  We should be orbiting about her, serving her and entertaining her.  This royal attitude is often kept in check.  She knows our basic rules and expectations for behavior, but then something changes and it all falls to pieces.  I’ve read and am reading books which outline ‘triggers’ in spirited kids.  It isn’t that simple, though.  I think that more than how you prepare a child for a routine change.  More than how you word your request or offer praise or cook the vegetables or breathe - its just about energy.

When I’m running low or in a perfect-storm-horrible-situation N’s is low too, wham!  And not even Wham! can fix the breakdown.  Until a warning meter is invented, this formula will have to make do:

Stella’s energy level - ((Mom + Dad’s energy)/2) + 5 for extra cherries on dessert + 10 for grandparents’ visit - (5 - Porter’s proximity in feet)
If > 10, no chain reaction, no meltdown
If < 10, run for cover

Not numerically inclined?, here’s my handy rule-of-thumb: keep your energy/attitude above 90%, keep Porter a few feet away and make a lot of dessert.

I just read an article that blows the whistle on parents.  It seems that parents lie to their children ... frequently!

Back at work wondering if all of these forms/plans/reports are necessary.  We all need a read-between-the-lines memo clarification-anator.  Feed in the form and out burps the truth.  “Ignore”, “Don’t Respond”, “What The ???”, “Quit Now”, etc.

If such a productivity enhancing device is too far in the future, then let’s create a rubber stamp that claims, “This isn’t important - I’m only forwarding it because my boss gave it to me”.  Or “Don’t reply - I don’t really want your input”.  How about “I don’t even know why I’m sending this because I haven’t identified the real problem yet”?

I know there are others I’m not thinking of and maybe all of these could be boiled down to a “B.S.” stamp which best summarizes any content, but someting should be done.  In the meantime I’m off to empty my recycling - these papers are towering.

Reading salon.com led me to this story. The video of Kirk Cameron is funny enough, but youtubing around for Ray Comfort was better. His bizarrely pornographic defense of religion based on a banana is first-rate.

I don’t care about Darwin and I haven’t read the “On the Origin of Species”, but I do care that all of us have an understanding of proof. Statistical proof and scientific proof. When deductive reasoning is applied correctly, the conclusion is irrefutable. There isn’t room for common-sense or circumstantial maneuvering. Or for substituting beliefs for evidence.

Really, believe what you wish. I really admire people who believe (in anything).  I strongly urge students everyday to believe in themselves, in their abilities. But I don’t tell them that just because they believe, they’re answers are correct. We check for errors, we re-examine the original question, we look for other explanations/methods.

We try to have sound evidence/reasons for all that we do.  Do you?

Today’s game:
What makes Porter happy, what makes Porter mad?

Objects:
Halloween books
A bagel cut before microwave warmup
A bagel cut after microwave warmup
A halloween cup in the dishwaser
A halloween cup washed and dried
Bungee cords

Hint:
There are three each

I thought I was in touch because I was feeling both good and bad.  So I went searching for a cool word to describe this blended state.  It wasn’t long before I realized the futility.  Before I became too carried away looking up urban slang, I followed links to websites a’plenty.  Reading between their lines yielded the truth. 

If you’re feeling good and bad, optimistic and skeptical - then you’re avoiding the tough decision(s) that you face.  Everyone wanted to wallow in self-doubt or pity, which left me feeling like an outsider at an old-timey church revival.  I don’t want to be like them.

Stella loves to sing. Loudly. Lately it’s been Michael Jackson’s “Heal the World”. And beside the fact that she has it confused with “We are the World” and that she sings the wrong lyrics - it’s pretty darn cute. Even now, after 132 hours since starting this last weekend, it’s still stuck in my head. I wonder if I can get her to lead her fellow Generation Z-ers in a push for social justice. Though thinking back to her anti-tree-harvesting campaign this summer, I might do better by pouring a drink and cranking the volume.  She has to grow tired of it soon...doesn’t she?

Southwest Airlines is the low-cost airline.  Operating decisions on every level, by every employee are based against; “will this make/keep us the low-cost airline?” If the decision doesn’t contradict the goal, the intent - do it.  It can be than simple.

I came across this as I have been churning through Made To Stick.  I enjoy other reading: Charlaine Harris, Christopher Moore and my buddy Stephenson to name a few, but I try to mix in a bit of profession-based text.  This latest bit of wisdom has come at a good time.  With the new school year, it’s time to focus on one thing - student learning.  I’m finding that there’s a liberation, a power in having the freedom to achieve this one goal and that the planning process is so much easier.  Knowing what one thing I want to do erases all of the uncertainty.

Natalie watched him carefully.  How the toppings were arranged on the bowl of chili - the three chips, the three dollops of jelly.  This morning I witnessed an even more elaborate production.  Three shredded wheat were placed in a bowl, and a cup, and a water bottle and then three were given to me.  Yeah.

N and I like to play a game, the whose-dna-is-responsible-for-that! game.  Guess I’m going to take credit for this one and will leave Natalie and Stella in the not-so-crazy portion of our family Venn diagram.  In fact, I’ve promised Stella an fantastic dessert (anything involving maraschino cherries) to reward her for her patience and independence which really helps out while we chase the little man around...only stopping for another glass of wine.

I’ll never get a good picture of Porter in action.  If a camera materialized to make permanent his rage, I would bet that the screaming and destruction would elevate to level not seen since the Siberian explosion in Tunguska.

This morning’s event involved the donning of P’s uniform: shorts, t-shirt and sandals.  Three things.  Three.  It’s so easy to visualize a happy, bouncing little guy.  Puzzle-master, T-Rex impersonator and booty-shaker.  Dressing for school found us caught (again) like flies in a web.

Just as N had succeeded, Porter decides that, no, the wrong parent dressed him.  Through tears, I was called back into the room to fully undress him.  To then dress him again...in the same outfit...which I had been trying to do for an hour.  You know, I wake up everyday thinking that I won’t be suckered in to his diabolical plans, but before I can see it coming - wham!

He did finally make it to school, it did involve getting buckled into both cars, and crying, and throwing, and screaming and then more crying.  Carpool anyone?

I used to like the movie Groundhog Day.  I liked that you could repeat a day until you nailed it.  One of the upsides was that no one was the wiser.  But what if they were?

What if they had to repeat the same scenario, not allowed to change since it would affect you - the main character?  Would it drive them mad or to anger?

That’s where we find ourselves.  Little P has become routined to a point of ritual.  Of repeating an interaction ‘til it suits his plan.  I find myself literally leaving the room, repeating my requested lines, then re-entering to replay the scene.  He loves it.  As for me...I think I’m going crazy.

Haven’t thought about The Bush lately, but a story surfaced recently.  The hardware store guilty of offering him a job as greeter received a visit from the former prez.  Seemed he needed a little outing (and batteries & WD-40) and a chance to bust out the humor..."I’m looking for a job”, he quipped upon entry.  While I know it isn’t that big of a deal - it got me thinking about this last month - his last month.  Little mention of him, few sightings - I think the only thing he could have been up to was the coloring of his memoir.  A little red here, a little magical rainbow there, staying between those lines there.  Someday soon a masterpiece will arrive at your local book store.  In the meantime, its back to obscurity...and the memorizing of more oh-so-hilarious Reader’s Digest anecdotes.  Only heaven knows when he’ll spring one on us again.

I’ve been doing this thing for a few months now.  I buy a case of good beer at the start of the month - and that’s it (unless, of course, donations appear on the front porch).  And before you lecture me on how gluttonous it all sounds, lets do a little math and see that even in this shortest of the months, that’s less than 1 a day.  Some folks have their smokes, some their triple espressos and some of us healthy, delicious and organic IPA.  Bank them, share them, nurse them - I think it’s a pretty good system.  I’m never going to have the will power to save up more than 2 or 3 days worth and I would feel too wasteful to binge.  So take that AA - and rehab - and Dr. Drew.  As to you, loyal readers, I raise my glass (of wine) to you.

Most days I drive Porter to his spa school.  We pass by a gas station teeming with U-hauls of every size and sort.  The migration of these silver and orange beasts at the beginning and end of each semester causes the exact make-up of trucks and trailers to be in a constant state of change and since most are adorned with a scene from these united states, we’re treated to mini-geography lessons - like learning that there are camel races in Virginia City, NV.  There is one that occasionally shows it’s face - The Wilmington, NC.  I know it isn’t going be bringing Brian and Andrea back this way, but I take it as a good omen.  It’s been front and center all week - guess that means I’ll be buying those lottery tickets after all.

If you admit that I have a sense of humor, then you might call it dry.  I like playing the straight man - unflappable.  Students are always so willing to play into this routine.  They’ll try to ask an embarrassing question, tell an off-color joke or make the mistake of letting me break out a gem from the fictionary.  And while folks often think that children are acutely aware of what’s going on, I find myself often telling Stella and Porter that I’m joking.

There’s often laughing/chasing/giggling silliness here.  Both kids are classic goofballs (with sides of drama and fury, of course).  But humor?  Well, this morning Porter wanted an episode of Wonder Pets.  If you’re unfamiliar, it’s a strangely animated cartoon where guinea pig, turtle and duck save a baby (what have you) just in the nick of time.  Porter wanted the episode in which they save an egg, then go on to save a flamingo.  I bluffed with a suggestion that we watch the fictitious saving of the cheese, the coffee episode.  No, he said sadly, he would have to buy that the next time we went to the store.  Still dead-pan, he asked for the save the potato, save the onion instead...silence...I was had.  Knowing that he’d won, he continued to calmly suggest: save the beer, save the water; save the dishwasher, save the stove… The list continued as a smile slowly spread across his face.  My little boy is growing up.  Just like me.  Sorry Natalie.

So a student tells me excitedly that there’s one day left.  Seems her cousin is heading back home after staying the semester.  I had him as a student too, but thought they were brother/sister due to the same last name.  And that’s how I started thinking.  How could he have the same last name and be cousins unless her father is his father’s ... or is it her mother’s grandfather’s stepson’s children have to be ... no that’s not it ... how about her mother’s sister married a man with the same last ... I used two sheets of paper testing every iteration ‘til I gave up.  This family stuff is crazy.  And that’s how I started thinking again.  You know that episode of X-files?  I mean that one - the one called “Home”.  Still disturbs me.  Disfigured inbreds juxtaposed with sweetly crooned music.  Fans of gore think it’s soft-core, but it’s freaky.  And I know there are parts of America where it totally happens.  As I head east across the Mighty Miss, I watch my back and double-check those road signs.  Because I tell you what, stumble into backroads hickville and you’ve got about 5 seconds to adapt or die.  But that’s where I’m covered.  N complains that I have no standards.  I’ll go from the fanciest restaurant to the heat lamps at the gas station without skipping a beat.  What she doesn’t realize is that I have multiple standards disorder.  Wanna wear camo and talk about them Eyeranians? - can do.  How about wine tasting? - would love to.  Want to give up on personal hygeine for a spell? - no problemo.  Discuss new philosophies in education? or college football? or porn? - how about it?  When you’re every shade of crazy, people figure you’re enough like them.  Except for the inbred part.

Tried out the graph building at graphjam.com today.  Here’s my first attempt.  Not my favorite, but it’s what the B-man wanted.

That’s right!  We’re here to tear it up.  One of us is bringing a sense of purpose, the other a sense of humor.  We’re gonna use our talents and get this country back on track.

B.B. (Before Barack), I was thinking that we literally needed to get trains rolling again.  A massive infrastructure plan - new tracks, new trains - jobs a’plenty.  But now, as we follow our leader forward, I realize we didn’t need that train.  We needed a vibe, a groove - like Don C. and his Soul Train.  And we got it.  Yesterday.  El Conductor, The B-man, Big B (official moniker pending) came calling, “All Aboard!” And I for one, am not skipping this ride.  I’m sure Orange County, the Central Valley and the Midwest to name a few, will point out the bumps, lurches and steep grades - but they’ll loosen up once I get the Earth, Wind & Fire spinnin’.

So here’s to Day 1 my funky America!

In the time since Turkey Day has ended, I’ve amassed much more to be thankful for.  Fun kids, loving relatives, a wife whose always-rightness actually comes in handy and some time to work on those lingering projects - to name but a few.  I’m even more thankful, though, for the focus we have going in to the December birthday and Christmas season.  The travel plans almost done, the good ideas for sincere gifts, the whole-lotta time we’ll have to be with family - I’m hopeful that this will be a Holiday to (fondly) remember.

I’ve received countless requests for my opinion on the upcoming election.  As a perpetual almost-candidate, I feel my thoughts need to be especially clear in these days of economic uncertainty and campaign gamesmanship.

I’ll never tell you how I voted.  Won’t do it.  But I will tell you my decision-making formula.  I plan to vote for a person who has a vision for America.  A vision that inspires folks of all ages to act.  Like the call to put a man on the moon, I’m looking for something radical, something aggressive.  Not someone to micro-manage or ‘change’ Washington.  I want a revival of American ingenuity.  I want someone to focus on education and the development of the technologies needed to lead in the 21st Century.  I want someone to turn these technologies into honest work for every American.  I think one candidate is better equipped to deliver on this rebirth of the American Spirit - and deserves my vote.

It’s not my fault that ice cream is so good, so addictive - and no, I won’t go to rehab.  I’ve missed bits and pieces of work lately so I couldn’t resist the chance to graph.  And to make Edward Tufte recoil in horror.

Starting the all important research for the cross-country drive.  Focus-o-the-day: finding the best tattoo parlors along the route.

It wasn’t that long ago that I was one of the lucky to be polled regarding gay marriage.  The CA Supremes had just reached their verdict and it appeared that public opinion had continued to shift.  A few of the questions were difficult and I had to really think about the difference in accepting gay marriage versus the ballot initiative process (which could end it).  These aren’t mutually exclusive.  In fact, I think both are important and I support both.  Having that avenue of change keeps us true to our American ideals and helps us make better decisions as long as one condition is met: Individual Freedom.

Religious Freedom is well established.  No one I know takes issue with it.  But there is no freedom in religion.  While it appears that worshipping in unison can be graceful, even transcendent, there is no freedom.  Flocks of birds, schools of fish move in the most coordinated patterns.  From the outside, it is a sight to behold.  From the middle, however, all you’d experience is a jostled, blurry mess – a mob.  These birds and fish effectively have no free will, no freedom of choice.  They follow where they’re led.

This Sunday in churches around Cali, religious leaders will urge their flocks to support a ballot measure banning gay marriage.  How dare them.  Protected by Constitutional freedoms, they deny church members freedom of choice.  Joe Average church member might feel that he can make any choice he wants, but you know he won’t.  He’ll swim with the rest and our decisions won’t be the best.

Why can’t I find Stretch-Tite?  After visiting four stores, which usually carry this most wonderful, special, hi-quality, hi-value, long-lasting, stylishly packaged and easy-to-use plastic wrap, I’ve struck out.  I even turned to my old stand-by, Amazon.com.  Poor Natalie can always expect Amazon to be my go-to shopping site.  I buy into their free two-day shipping club because so many smiling boxes arrive on our doorstep.  But the mighty has not this stretchy wrap of the gods.  I realize there are other on-line sites, but that feels cheap, dirty or like I’ve become an alley scrounging addict looking for my next fix.  Stretch-Tite is worth the wait.  In the meantime, I’ll keep using duct tape and garbage bags to seal our leftover treasures.

It’s taking longer than I had hoped to build the trail to the hillside.  The economics of family life, gasoline and the flakiness of a few landscape contractors put me in the driver’s seat of this project.  Ten hours in of picking through clay and the upper stairs of the switchback are done:

There were many educational lessons I didn’t value as a student.  I dared not appreciate a book though now I find myself an advocate for any reading and I relish good writing.  History is another.  It didn’t seem logical that you’d have to remember the past so as not to repeat it.  Our very DNA has been so damaged by The Bush, for example, that we can’t revisit this.  Spasms, sputum and sores would befall us.  But I am finding out the value in the remembrance of the old.  There are events and people I don’t want to forget.  Like family or friends or the soaring styles of the seventies, sometimes memories are all we can have.  But my memory is failing.  Yesterday I tried telling Natalie the two things I’ve learned about writing.  I remembered number 2, but can’t recall the first.  Looks like I’ll be blindly repeating that grievous error.  Keeping the lists shorter might help though.  Or maybe a tidy number could speak volumes.  Instead of the myriad of dates and going-ons over a two-decade period which formed the good old U.S. of A., we can boil the entire process down to ‘1776’.  Same for me.  I have learned something of relationships and family.  It’s part of my history now and I can remember it by whittling the ups and downs into: If you feel like you’re doing 100% of the work, you’ve just reached the 50% mark.

I was drinking one or two or six beers the other day when my cravings for salty crunchy bar foods overwhelmed me.  Now I’m pretty handy in the kitchen and it didn’t take long to find toaster leavin’s of all sorts: potato chips, tortilla chips, pita chips, pretzels, smoked almonds.  When the last of the greasy crumbs had been inhaled - inspiration struck.  The ultimate snack food, the snack food of the gods - Drunklins™.  The sweepin’s and crumblin’s of every great crunchy food pressed into a manly bite-sized log shape.  For sale by the bag, bucket or boat load.

I have a lot of folks trying to help me out:  Natalie buying me clothes that actually get compliments; Stella bragging that I’m so funny ‘cuz I’m a math teacher; Students passing me copies of “Flight of the Conchords”.  Couple these with my ongoing soundtrack of Barry White / The Commodores / Earth Wind & Fire and this slightly older Steve is a little mellower and smoother than before.  I’m lovin’ the unexpected things and with the help of my Slang Flashcards I can understand this sweet card from Natalie.

These last days have been so topsy-turvy and out of character that looking back they actually seem normal.  From Friday as Porter started throwing up, to Saturday with me finding hours of unexpected afternoon quite time alone, to Sunday with Natalie rockin’ out to my new Journey CDs followed by Stella and me throwing up, to Monday being a day of recovery and cleaning everything in the hope that Natalie wouldn’t fall ill.  I have a pocket full of posts to be making thanks to the weekend, but this video needed to be shared now.  I really think it is a memory I’ll keep forever.

As the possibility of helping A&B move across ‘murika becomes reality, I offer this as the main reason to help:

This map represents 181 Arby’s within spittin’ distance of the main route.  When you consider where the greatest concentration is and where B chose to move, you have to wonder.

So thankful it’s finally here.  I never finish projects that I start so it is a rare pleasure when June rolls ‘round.  Good year or bad (and I’m not releasing my opinion on this one) - it ends on a high note and gives me a chance to be excited for next year.  And unlike the first day of school when I can’t sleep the night before, last night I slept like a rock - my only worries being the aches and pains from falling while rolling a wheelbarrow downhill backwards.  I’ll have Ranger tell you all about it later.

Amazon.com started selling the cd/dvd of Choo Choo Soul and the whole fam is pretty darn thankful.  You gotta love r&b/soul kid’s music.  I get to watch Genevieve, Natalie thinks D.C. looks like LL Cool J, and the kids learn to count with style - scratching vinyl with the best of ‘em.

I’ve got the practice of religion figured out by finding the perfect analogy.  Golf.

A public course, you’re welcome to come play a round.  But be careful - there are a few exclusive (or dare I say cantankerous) foursomes playing today.  The Joseph Smith Quartet and The Holy Foursome of the Papacy to name a few, they bring their shiny carts, custom clubs and matching outfits, and seem rather intimidating.  They might claim to shoot better scores, to have no handicaps and to understand the rules of the game better, but they’re not in charge.  Only the greenskeeper is.  They may even claim to know him better, but you still get to play.  And there are plenty of tee-times left - in fact, the course never closes.

Want to play like them? Go for it.  Want to create your own foursome?  That’s fine too.  Just want to play beer golf?  I don’t blame you one bit.  Go have fun, relax, and who knows - you might shoot the best score yet.

Michael Keaton brings joy to our lives! and he can do the same for you.  The family finds enduring humor in his many selfs in Multiplicity, and technological wonder in his “notes to self” in Night Shift.  Who knew that just 26 years later I find myself recording myself on the cell.  Journals be damned.  If you want to remember to “Call Starkist...feed mayonnaise to tuna fish”, you gotta use a recorder.

What does it mean when you procrastinate by reading articles about procrastination?

I’m at the point in my career where I need to actually get involved or pretty much call it quits. The inconsistencies in education are maddening and I’ve realized that I have to stop wishing for educational reform and actually start doing something. And I don’t want to reinvent the wheel here, don’t want to be the leader either. My current, yet realistically slow, plan is to find other groups and start working with them - being part of a team. I’d like to clue you all in as to what I’m looking for, wanting to help with and want input about.

Grading - I want to further the dialog about what grades really imply. Are they measures of how much you do know? How much you got right on a test? How much you didn’t miss on a test? How much “effort” you put in regardless of quality? If you’re interested in this, watch for an upcoming link to JustGrading™.

Homework - Following in the path of Alfie Kohn, I’d like to build on this too. If you’re new to the examination of homework, consider this...there is not much evidence that homework has educational benefits (even in the slightest), yet bringing up the subject brands you a heretic, a lunatic. I always thought that lunacy was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different outcomes to emerge. I think that this will be the toughest educational nut to crack because it’s so ingrained, but it is definitely one to involve folks in and outside of the ed game.  Watch for the upcoming link to HomeNotWork™.

Jason K. Singleton has struck again.  Well-known for filing ADA lawsuits against private and public organizations, this Eureka lawyer has caused a local eatery to close.  Of all the fast-food around, I really liked Arctic Circle.  Friendly, affordable, good kid’s menu - it had a lot going for it.  Mr. Singleton, however, found a few items out of compliance and slapped ‘em with the suit.  Something that he’s done up and down CA too many times.  And once filed, a defendent can’t win.  Arctic Circle had to pay.  So did the rest of rest us.  When will Singleton?

Porter and I had a bedtime routine.  I’d hold him and we’d gently rock to some humble hummed tunes.  I believed he found comfort in it and I imagined that it would be quite the benefit later, this musical exposure.  Adults or children alike can appreciate the muzak version of “Moon River” or a little “Appalachian Spring” by Copeland.  Not any longer.  Last night, 3 bars into some dreamy tune..."stop singing"..."Cheeseburger in Paradise”...and me without my steel drums.

OMG! - we have a lilac bush!  Really, we do - amazing isn’t it?

I’ve offended locals and tourists alike this week with my lilac nonchalance.  There’s a big one growing on the side of the shop and all through the winter I wanted to cut it down.  Come on, for being 6-feet tall it’s a spindly son-of-a-gun.  But it’s in bloom now and the proclamation has been made by N that if I touch it, I’m to be keel-hauled. 

They’re considered the flower of memory.  A scent that immediately reminds you of somewhere or someone else.  For those brief few weeks they announce the transition of spring into summer.  The rapid fade creates a new flood next spring when those blooms seem to appear overnight.

I don’t have lilac memories.  Years from now I can only hope that I’ll waft back to times like these.  New house, a new start, kids at home - being a family.

Mother-lodes to Mother-f%#@ers, Mother brings a sense of importance, awe, power and grandeur.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of you!  Without you, without all women, working it everyday - we’d be packing ourselves up in our old hand-baskets and heading on down.

I got my mind on the music, the music on my mind.  I haven’t laid down my latest track, my latest rhymes ‘bout lyrics, but I read John’s post on concerts and I got to thinking.  What are your concert memories?

I’ve got
The insane: $90 tix to see Debbie Gibson at the Greek Theater and us without our lighters.
The coolest: Ramones in Hollywood pressed against the front.
The dream: I swear that I say Mojo Nixon and Skid Roper in a strange basement-like room, way less that 100 people, in Fresno with all of us sitting around on folding chairs...but I could be wrong.
The date?: Taking Natalie to 10,000 Maniacs with a hip and cool mixtape featuring Basia thumping in the Honda.

The list gets longer the more I think about it.  Country fairs, converted bowling alleys, stadiums, and theaters.  Its actually a well-rounded mix.  Students often ask what my musical tastes are and I defer.  Its definitely not worth the time to piece together a rambling and chaotic answer.

Now most of you all know that I’m working on the twenty-year retrospective of, well, me.  I dig taking photos of myself with any old camera and someday we’ll all have a nice, but odd, coffee table book.  In the meantime, I give you evidence that mi familia also wants in on the action whether or not they roll their eyes at me the other 364 days.
Here’s Stella the Serious:

Natalie the Nymph:

and, of course, me (since Porter was the only sane one - the one who refused such odd behavior):

You might as well stop reading now.  Headlines can say it all.  The one caveat being honesty.  For example, just now I read that:

“Arby’s is buying Wendy’s” (Way to go Beef-n-Cheddar.  There’s still nothin’ better)
and
“Jenna Bush is not yet on board with McCain” (cuz her endorsement matters?)

What else could the articles possibly say?

I’ve been thinking a lot about sincerity lately.  I’m quite sure that at times I seem insincere, glib, or flip.  And I suppose the only fix is to back up what I’m saying.  To act.  To interact.  I don’t know if this is common to other nerdly people, but quirks like these have been buggin’.

I can’t fully express all of the ups and downs of these last weeks.  The sudden and sad loss of Bill, the expected and also sad loss of Bob, the fun of Porter and his parties, the growth of Stella and positive, though not always easy, changes at work.  I have to say that the biggest ups have been the mothers.  Mrs. A has been on the road for who knows how long trying to get her mom taken care of.  I can’t even imagine the frustrations of dealing with doctors, insurance and hospitals.  I sure that her efforts and support have gone a long way to helping her mom through some almost impossibly tough times.  My mom (and father too) have been supporting some of their oldest friends as one has died.  At the shortest of notices, at the risk also of missing visits with grandkids, they kept a positive outlook in their support of both friends.

These are selfless acts which define you and I couldn’t admire the parents more.

I’m still unsure what was said/mentioned/dreamed, but Jodie and Anthony came over Sunday for bushwhacking.  The wood fence came down; tons of old plants,debris and trees were leveled; bones and owl pellets analyzed - leaving us much closer to the dream house that has seemed so elusive.  I know the pictures don’t do it all justice but the green stakes used to be the fence.  The wooden barrier to the forest is gone.

Looking back down the hill, with an elevation only appreciated by true Sherpas, you won’t notice much. 

That’s what is so wonderful!  The fence was the last stand against the brush.  Choking the forest, sneaking through the fence, it was a mess to the nth degree.  Reciprocating saws, chain saws, weed eaters, shears, hedge trimmers, brute strength - you name it, we tried it.  I’m almost embarrassed to admit that we spent a day cleaning, tidying a forest which isn’t even ours.  But we did and we kicked ass!  Thanks to all!

Salt and pepper, Salt-n-Pepa, what’s one without the other?  Together they make it better.

Porter cute, happy & sweet and Porter screaming,crying & fussin’.  Both different, both important, both the P-man.
For all the energy and single track mindedness and stubbornness, Porter is spicing things up.
It wouldn’t be bland without him, but you’d know something important was missing.

So to you Porter, my little I-don’t-know-what-I’m-gonna-be-yet-but-I’m-gonna-be-crazy-into-it guy, Happy Birthday!
I Love You,
Dad

[As for the video, I tried for 2 hours to get the robot birthday dance but happily settled for the booty shaking]

Got the first gray hair in the soul patch.  Man, I’m getting old.

I know it’s not here yet, and perhaps I’m counting it down, but it’s all for a good cause.  My summer vacation is going to be filled with slashin’ and burnin’ and I can’t wait.  If you haven’t been up to our broken down fence line then you’ve missed a hidden gem.  Past the gargantuan ivy plant,

past the bus-sized piles of brush (which are breaking the fence),

lies the promised land, the view.  And while it isn’t ours, we’re gonna sure enjoy it.

Our yard is an archaeological dig, a constructions site, a tornado ravaged trailer park.  Most of us keep our quirks and ticks and crazy behaviors fairly well hidden.  Not Natalie.  She’s an obsessed brush clearing machine - driven to pull, hack, chop and dream of even more ways of making piles around the yard.  She will succeed but I fear at the cost of her sanity (and limbs).  You might think the following is a small pile, but it really is as tall as the shop.

An unexpected email came through last Friday with a request to buy this domain name.  I took it as a sign to bail on whatever it was I was trying to do.  So after a few hours of updating, reconfiguring and cleaning house I stripped years of crap away and started over (again).

Among other things of which I’ll elaborate later, I’ve actually spoken to a colleague about the ups and downs and more downs of the job.  I ran into him today and we picked up where we left off - discussing the possibilities of working in a different field.  While I want to seek out other opinions on campus, its nice to commiserate.  Having shared my thoughts, he asked if I have been watching Breaking Bad.  I started to laugh.  If you now the show you should appreciate the similarities.  So standing in the hall, with students passing by, we thought about it all.  You know, I’m not interested in that world, but there is a line between work and family; insulation.  And only one can be dominant while the other might be a means to the end.  I’m on Walt’s side.

As an extra, I just finished reading the chat with Bryan Cranston after last night’s finale.  I like his interpretation of the down-trodden character who may be the most guilty of the treading.

This is my story…

I’m dealing with something and I’m embarrassed about it.  I don’t like being wrong or out of control or having negative thoughts.  But I think I am and my skepticism is changing to cynicism.  Among other feelings, I find myself disliking my job and before doing anything rash, I want to figure out why I’m feeling this way.  Labeling myself as happy, sad, depressed or saying that I’m avoiding change or whatever else isn’t going to help.  And I don’t want to talk to a professional about anything either.  I enjoy research.  Looking up info, comparing multiple sources, taking time to digest it all - this is satisfying to me.  I think that by going through this process, I might learn about myself and others.  I might change.  I would like to think that to a point, everyone has common feelings.  However, we ultimately fan out onto countless paths.  Which one am I on? and Do I have company?

I think a major symptom right now is that I’m a list maker and not a finisher.  In that, I don’t think my lists are helping me remember the important things.  I won’t forget, can’t forget tidbits or tasks.  I can remember the grocery list, the phone numbers, whatever.  But I carry around 2, 3, 4 or more lists with item after item.  I think these are wish lists - things to start and things to procrastinate.  Take this post for example.  I have fought myself for two hours about making this a check-list of “Steve’s Problems and His Proposed Solutions”.

I went through a phase where I put a positive spin on this - I thought of myself as the idea man, the dreamer.  I’m the opener, let someone else be the closer.  To the best of my recollection, this goes back over 30 years.  But really, I’ve been a mediocre salesman with no actual inventory.  When an order came in...well...some of those folks are still holding rain-checks.  You won’t know this even if you have visited nerdistry before, but I have at least 3 other versions of this site all but completed.  For the last 8 months, instead of saying anything of interest, I tinkered with how it all should look.  I would massage the code ever so carefully then walk away.  The next month, another design.  I don’t think the possibility of criticism of my designs stopped me.  I mean come on.  If I can make messes like the current MHS site, I can handle criticism.  More examples are pointless.  I’m not turning this into a list again.

I just realized that S and P won’t ever hear the sound of a dial-up modem connecting.  Truly sad.

A local fair was just in town - a perfect chance to indoctrinate Stella into ‘Murkin culture.  We dressed up in our Carharts and hit the road early.  Mind you, the midway wasn’t going to open until noon so arriving at 9:15 might seem odd.  It actually worked out perfectly.  We toured the barns and Stella was enthralled with the big ‘ol cows, the hogs, sheep, goats, chickens, pigeons, ducks, turkeys and geese.  We watched a few rounds of 4-H and FFA showing with yours truly providing color commentary and explaining the whys of raising animals.  The real fun was on the other side of the grounds.

With every game closed and ride still sleeping; with just six cars in the parking lot, we were able to explore, touch and talk about everything.  She’d measure her height against the signs at each ride - hoping that she could/couldn’t get on it later.  She’d make a lap, zigzagging through the barriers, then start over again.  She owned the place which I think gave her a sense of comfort.

As the carnies recovered and filtered back to work, her time had arrived.  Merry-go-round, roller coaster, a dragon version of the tea cups - she tore it up.  Only the smallest hints of fear kept her from pushing everyone out of the way to get to the next ride, back to the ticket window, then riding again.  When you mix in nachos, sno-cones and a trip to Adel’s afterwards for mac-n-cheese, it was one memorable day.  Days later, she is still quick to recount the sights and sounds.

Now I know what you’re thinking.  Why didn’t we both get corn-dogs?  Well, we’re saving that for the county fair.  No longer a rookie, she’ll get the full treatment when that day comes and will be big sistering the P-man about the ins-and-outs of fair fun.  As I’ve mentioned the upcoming corn-dog-o-rama, Stella had this to say.  “I want one as big as a tree.” Make that two, please.

See the Pics here

I could never write greeting cards - specifically Birthday cards for Natalie.  She is quick to remind me, to needle me about my lack of skills.  Its just that my vocabulary is limited to gems like amazing, beautiful, joy, journey and adventure.  And a thesaurus won’t help.  These words, and but few others, have taken on so much more than textbook definitions.  They’re how I see her; they’re rich with a patina and a history.  They’re full-o-love and now that I’ve used them, I’m left only with wishing her a Happy 35th!

Hey Ho! Let’s Go!

The Ramones did it well.  Focused, Fast, Fun and First.  Cool threads and kick-ass Marshall stacks.  You wanna know a hallmark of a good band? - check out their stacks.  The Ramones struck a chord with me.  One of the few they could play.  Come on, I’m a marshmallow-white, goody, nerdy, didn’t-touch-a-drop-of-alcohol high school kid wearing a Rocket to Russia t-shirt and oddly enough - I didn’t look like a poser.

I’m sure I liked the driving pace, the minimal use of words which in themselves were often unexpected as Dee Dee shouted, “onetwothreefour”.  Forget lyrical poetry, I’ll take ‘DDT’, ‘cretin’ and ‘lobotomy’ in any song/sentence/conversation.

So for their obsession, I honor them as nerds.  I dig the fact that album #1, Ramones, was recorded and mixed in one ten-hour sitting.  I dig it that guys could come and go, then come back again and no one gave a shit.  The chant, “gabba gabba we accept you, we accept you one of us” says it best.  It wasn’t about ego, labels or selling out.  Can you dig it?

I got a lot swirling around.  I’m temporarily focused on a favorite goal.  The Unified Theory of ______________ .  Life, Education, Music, Donuts, Prime Numbers, it all sounds good.

I make the blog rounds everyday and rarely deviate from the pattern or order.  But recently I found myself at Neal Stephenson’s (of monumentally important Cryptonomicon fame) site and followed a link to this article on introverts. I am inferring that Neal thinks he is one.  I’m not.  It did start me thinking on my unified theories.  I realize that I’m not providing the insight into the nerd-world that I am capable of.  I also realize that chronicling day-to-day life isn’t going to accomplish it.  Nor can I wait to write a definitive history of nerds.  I’ve got to open up my thought process to you, or as Natalie likes to call it, “Happy Steve Land.”

So take a step inside and lets chat ‘bout Music.

I don’t know any words.  Don’t care to.  Most of ‘em suck.  When you think of it, as I often do, songs are terribly inefficient means of telling a story.  They’re like bad high school poetry...wait that’s redundant.  I guarantee that hearing a well crafted tune with incomprehensible lyrics is as satisfying as knowing the words.  Emotion is brought by you the listener.  The mood you’re in mixes with the song to become something the artist had little control of.  Why do so many of you remember a time of your life, a place, a person when a song comes on?  It’s because you attached the feelings and memories.  The song didn’t create them.  If you still want to defend your precious lyrics, answer this.  Do you get excited in recognizing a song, do the memories and feelings start when the music begins or the words?  Music is important to me, I like listening as much as most.  And next time you hear me butcher a song or you find me at a loss to recognize when someone is quoting ‘famous’ lyrics or you realize that I don’t even know a song’s title (seeing that I call it “the cool song I can rock my air guitar to"), take a breath and relax; be happy.  “Happy Steve Land”: population 2.

As for other nerds, they’re just like me.  They wanna rock out.  Do you remember the Alamo, the watershed moment in nerd music?  With their backs against the wall, Lewis & Gilbert, the whole ragtag Tri-Lam crew in tow, stood their ground ‘gainst the Alpha-Betas.  The keyboards, Booger wailing on his axe, Omega-Mus clapping their pudgy hands - they all tore it up - especially Poindexter on the fiddle.  Who needed lyrics to know that song, that show kicked ass?

Ahmadinejad is really rolling now.  After failing to impress the world with his hijacking of British sailors, he’s back with nukes.  As if.  We all should place bets on the technology Iran magically has next.  My gut reaction is that they’re almost done developing Star Trek style transporters.  Keep your eyes peeled for The Bush’s double at your local Men’s Wearhouse buying more snazzy suits.

2 - days in a row in which P-dog slept all night long.
2 - students I saw today that look like Sanjaya.
2 - minutes I wait before tuning into the BBC show ‘The World’ because I can’t stand the local d.j. that precedes it.
2 - times 5 equals the number of NASCAR flags flying from the roof of a local cabinet shop.

and on a less serious note:
2 - the number of fugly, inept, IQ challenged and society threatening presidents.  Ahmadinejad and The Bush.  Ya know...they kinda look alike.

I really enjoyed Tony Snow saying that The Bush’s offer to be less than honest with Congress would be moot if they dared issue subpoenas.  Do you think that was The Bush’s word?  I don’t think guys that throw temper tantrums use moot.  When word came down that the Senate really wanted to hear ol’ K-Rove spin it, he probably reached into the vault and pulled out his best Yosemite Sam material.  Damn, I would have paid a lot to see him hoppin’ mad.

Winco.
If you’ve been there, you know visions the name invokes.  I cell them my peeps.  The underbelly, the fringe, working families and the scared, out of place tourists.  I was reminded of the diversity and splendor of it all when arriving yesterday a mom yelled, “I not fuckin’ carrying you.” to her toddler.  I wondered what kept the women who looked like cheap hookers from actually plying that old profession.  Were their zebra-patterned outfits too much for little ol’ E-town?  I took delight in staring at folks.  Everyone is determined to walk the aisles with blinders; to be oblivious.  I figure that it’ll frighten patrons and staff alike if I make eye contact.  I watched chubby children try to stuff their cheeks with bulk candy and was thankful that Stella wanted only to carry four precious coffee beans in her hands.  I beamed when I found Admiral Nelson - a Captain Morgan’s knock-off for $6.98.  And I was serenaded by hacks, coughs and wheezes from those who sit on benches by the exit waiting for something, anything.  I dig it.  Stella digs it.  Where else do you see “Cops” episodes slowly taking shape and save a boatload of cash?  The ‘Co - now ya know.

Who can believe anything these two say?  We’re talking about pure lies.  And like most lies, they become so consuming; so draining.  You’ve got to stand by them instead of standing by your fellow citizens.  In the last two days we’ve had The Bush tell us that in the case of Alberto Gonzales firing 8 U.S. Attorneys, “mistakes were made.  And I’m frankly not happy about them.” What?  You’re saying that you didn’t know about the firings or just the politics of the firings?  How dumb are you?

Then Dickie C. tells us that there is a link between Al Qaeda and Iraq.  Huh?  You’ve been saying that for four years.  A Republican controlled Senate Intelligence Committee said there isn’t.  The presidential Commission on Intelligence Capabilities said there isn’t.  Sorry Dickie C., we don’t buy it.  Why don’t you move to Dubai with your Halliburton friends?  I wonder why they aren’t staying in ‘Murika?  Could it be Dubai’s almost non-existent tax laws? - perhaps.

Was talking to my Stats students Friday and as I said, “You take the...”, I ‘bout finished the sentence with, “the good you take the bad, you take them both and there you have...”.  That was one close shave with embarrassment.  Saturday was spent with XM on the 80’s channel - and it rocked.  Van Halen, Go-Gos, Styx, Pebbles...And then this morning.  Someone was actually wearing a pair of Reebok high-tops!  Has he had them since the 80’s or was ebay involved?  You may not believe it, but google reebok high-tops and you’ll still find them for sale.  But they suck.

The Bush isn’t thinking about a pipin-hot KFC lunch.  Nope.  He’s thinking that he don’t like the presenter, that too many big words are being used and that he’ll play it cool so nobody will figure out his true feelings ‘bout most of us.

I may be a little lax, but there is a new photo set from Stella’s party and other winter fun.  I do want to inform you all that for a reasonable fee, I’ll use discretion as to which stella pics of you get posted.

Time was when you’d wait behind an odd character at an ATM.  They’d be typing away, crumbling up receipts and muttering as they checked balances, moved $10 here, then there, then back again.  Transactions that a teller could do in 4 seconds took someone 4 minutes.  That was then - now we’ve all grown tired of it and are talking to the bankers again.

Cell phone stores are the new hangout of the odd.  We’ve been in three today trying to replace a battery.  Talk about a depressing-surreal-dmv experience.  Forlorn expressions, defensive body language, Cops-like scenarios of trying to add/not add girlfriends, exes, relatives.  Getting on waiting lists, travelling to nearby cities, and manic employees giddy with power.  Why are these folks drawn to technological fly strips?  Why does it feel like prison?  Can’t they go in, buy a damn phone and leave?  Its 4 minutes - not 4 hours.

The new treadmill was ready for pick up today.  As has been the case for the last two weeks, it was raining.  Buckets.  An employee rolled the box to the back of the 4-Runner, a box as wide and tall as a refrigerator though only half as deep.  He agreed with me that it might not fit, took it off the dolly, then left me and the box in the rain.  I got to struggle alone for the next 10 minutes ripping everything out of the backseat and jostling the 190 pound beast until I did make it fit.  I saw a few folks watching from inside the delivery area as I dried off the door panels, upholstery, hair and clothes before heading home.  At which point I was greeted with a phone call from Sears.  My delivery was ready for pickup.

Brilliant? check.
Offbeat? check.
World’s Best Teacher? check.

Feynman is many things, many different things to folks everywhere.  One could argue that he had a high opinion of himself, but his cognitive prowess is above all criticism.  I think a telling characteristic of Feynman was that he created all of the foundation work on which he built his great advances.  He didn’t rely on facts in a textbook.  Any man or woman who has worked hard to achieve any success would admire the extent of Feynman’s self-sufficiency.  He pushed himself, suffered setbacks and ultimately must be considered as great as Newton himself.  It is for the body of his work and his approach to life and education that I honor Richard as the first Featured Nerd.

As far as the quote - its always been one of my favorites.  It is a recounting of the influence of Feynman’s dad.  From an early age Feynman was directed to think, not memorize.

Hollywood likes drugs & booze - that’s a given.  Alternative lifestyle or religious beliefs - not a problem.  And when anyone crosses the line; hangs out with Tom, rants like Mel, parties with Lindsay - it’s off to rehab.  Rehab, the magical, mystical, one-stop cure-all.  Except for real problems.  I like what dooce has to say, to add to the discussion.  The Brit is suffering and needs real treatment.  I find myself today adding Britney to the “The” List.  She joins conservative talk radio as an entry under the title “The Topics I Can No Longer Follow”.  I hope she recovers, hope the kids have a mom, hope Hollywood talks about these darker but all too real problems, and of course hope she never releases another album.

Computer camp.
Band camp.
I don’t think I stood a chance.

I’m usually guilty of procrastination - especially when given a day or more alone.  Oh sure, I might try to finish the benches, get caught up with school work, or clean the house...but I usually find that time fills itself with college football, beer, computers, and late-night tv.  Whats a procrastinator to do?  Spend a weekend alone (with the kids).  Apart from all of the real tasks, I still managed to do a few work tasks.  As for the ‘fun’ ones? - didn’t do ‘em and didn’t really miss ‘em.  except the beer.

Was thinking this morning that this family is like the A-team.  I think I’m often stuck in the 80’s, though I’m not a hesher as Natalie has implied.  Anyway, I decided that I was Hannibal, Stella - Howling Mad Murdock, Natalie - B.A. Baracus and Porter - Faceman.  Could be wrong though.  At that point I got a little carried away comparing folks.  Lets see, who are Cousin Larry and Balki (A and B?).  Or what about Mork and Mindy?  Al and Peg?  Roseanne and Dan?  Any takers?  I know Mrs. A and Andy have to fit in here somewhere.

Can’t buy liquor in McKinleyville.  Oh sure, they sell it.  Sell it by the boatload.  But as a teacher I have to shop elsewhere.  Wouldn’t even matter if I had a cart load of foods.  Doesn’t even matter that all the students know that all the teachers drink.  Or that all the students drink.  What matters is that MackTown is the kind of place where folks are naturally referred to as Elder, Brother, or Sister so-and-so.  That’s how I ended up in a corner of Eureka at a Safeway buying wine behind a freakish man wearing a surgical mask who was telling the clerk that he wore it to protect others since his breath was hot; the kind of hot that cooks and heats food much like the food he was buying at a snails pace.  What is the liklihood of so many strange towns so close together?

I’m to the “admitting” stage and thus, it is time to tell you all that I’ve been listening to ultra-conservative talk radio; aka smack-talking morons.
Everything about it is disgusting, but like a bad __________________ (fill in the blank) I can’t stop.  However, after listening Friday to a whiny host pledge allegiance to Rumsfeld, I switched it off.  Its been three days, my fingers are twitching for a dial, but I’m gonna make it - I’ve got the NPR patch.

Statistically speaking, shoppers at Winco are the most representative sample of Eurekans.  Except for today.  When 15 checkstands are open and have customers stacked 5 deep - you are able to witness the real magic of Eureka.  There are the shifty-eyed, crazy-eyed, lazy-eyed, bug-eyed, wild-eyed, red-eyed, tired-eyed, glassy-eyed, black-eyed and the one-eyed.  The sad thing is that for all of the carnival freakshow nature, I fit in.

The migration from my old server isn’t complete, but it has been tough not commenting on all the latest news.  Elections and celebs, oh my!
While the introduction of a photo gallery and getting comments all set up will take a bit of time, I’ll continue my (almost) daily mumblings.

Awww yeahhhhh. Had my first satsumas of the season. Won't be posting here for a week - got to migrate to a new server and software.

Do you know why puzzles are fun? In my opinion, its the challenge that the puzzle does work, that it must work, and the question as to whether you can make it work. Use all of the pieces. You know exactly when you're finished - unllike real life. Take, for example, committee meetings. We've all sat in on them. When faced with options, details, and a task...it seems like the natural tendency is to include everything. Are we, the committee, trying to appease all? Are we unable to say no? Or request something different? I just sat through three hours of such meetings, where every thing, every suggestion had to be used. What a fu#king waste of time - unlike puzzles.

Don't complain about negative political ads. If you want to complain about anything, how about the total amount of money spent on elections. In my opinion it should be $0.00. Reason 1: The money spent doesn't help the economy in any appreciable way. Television and radio stations aren't basing their budgets on this ad revenue. Neither are sign shops, newspapers, nor button makers. The elimination of political monies will go unnoticed. Reason 2: Ads are spin; half-truths, or over-simplifications at best. If the public interest is the real issue, then the information produced by government agencies must be sufficient. The voter guide produced by the State of CA contains a wealth of valid information. A synopsis of a proposition, arguments for and against, fiscal impacts, and so on. An advertisement telling me how Prop. 87 will affect me isn't needed. No thanks, I have all the information already. Reason 3: Candidates, if they do want to campaign, can focus on their message, their work. There won't be a need for fundraisers; parties where catch phrases = $$. Candidates could talk. They could have town-hall meetings. They could interact in the community for the sake of service, not the almighty dollar. You know, the humor in all of this is the one reason I haven't filed my Federal Elections paperwork. I'm supposed to have a campaign committee which is supposed to have a bank account. But I don't want to spend any money, don't have any money for the account, and don't want to bother others for this task...so what to do? Perhaps, I'll drop the old FEC a line...

Had 3 hours of meetings today as the school's trying to get all spiffed up for our every-6-year evaluation process. I wasn't too surprised to see the plethora of snacks (seeing how teachers will do 'bout anything for free food), I was surprised, however, at the mound of triscuits and cans of easy chesse. Throughout the meeting, no one ate the cheese. What was wrong with them? Were we all waiting for someone else to start?; to break the dam? Or am I the only one who thinks it tastes good and refuses to believe the toxic ingredients are really that bad? I never took any, too self-conscious - too worried about my cool rep, too bad. Even now as I type this I can all but taste that extruded goodness.

Natalie is busy typing a walscapades post about my attention to detail. Seems she finds a bit of humor in watching me reset clocks. That, however, doesn't fully describe my actions/celebrations of the last 24 hours. For example, yesterday at 1:15 pm old time [cocktail hour - new time], I met up with my friend Jimmy Beam. I know that I should have finished my jar, but with Mrs. A coming to town today I gotta give the 'ol liver a break.

Just got done watching thewallstreetjournalreportwithMARIABARTIROMO. She showed more of her recent interview with The Bush. And I must say, laughing about The Bush and the google is fun, but that really was the tip of the iceberg. • The Bush thinks that WalMart is good for 'Murika - have made significant contributions to the country (and of course, the right-wing), provides jobs, "and people shouldn't fear competition. They ought to learn how to adjust and compete." • He also broke down the mid-term elections into: Repubs will keep economy strong and have a plan for victory in Iraq, Dems will raise taxes and don't have a plan. A little simplistic? Perhaps. Doesn't matter though, since according to The Bush, we voters will get in the ballot box on election day. (Another round of tampering anyone?) If you have the stomach, read the full transcript.

What's up with Arizona? • Clean Elections - candidates get a reasonable amount of public money if no donations taken are over $5. • No Daylight Savings Time - they won't be waking up at 4am tomorrow with the kids. • Voter ID - gotta provide proof - go figure. • And finally this graphic from the NY Times - ah, the rise of the Unaffiliated and Independent thinking voter!

So, The Bush uses The Google. Natalie pointed out a YouTube video. We clicked on the video and before I could mock The Bush, I was babbling "hey, its Maria Bartiromo." Confession time... I really don't mind getting up early with a child on Saturdays. At 6am, The Wall Street Journal Report with Maria Bartiromo starts. Of course, I refer to it reverently as thewallstreetjournalreportwithMariaBartiromo. I tried to play this off to Natalie by proclaiming her of an advanced age compared to mine. Maria, in fact, is only one year older. But there is no point being a goob. I'm awarding Maria an honored spot on Steve's "The" List. Alongside Natalie - The Stats/Data/BigPictureThinking/Business/andOverallReallyBeautiful Babe, Maria is now The FinanceBabe. For the first time today I "the googled" Maria. More than anything about her, I was reminded of, then had to sing a little tune by The GreatestLeadSinger of The GreatestBand - Joey Ramone. From a piece by David Wighton for The Financial Times, May 12, 2006:

But, let’s face it, her most devoted fans tend to be men. Few have been more devoted or shown their devotion more publicly than Joey Ramone, lead singer of the New York punk band, the Ramones. Bartiromo started receiving e-mails from someone calling himself Joey Ramone in 1998. Unsurprisingly, she was at first sceptical that it was the Joey Ramone. The e-mails would say things like: “Maria, I saw you on CNBC today, and you were talking about Intel. I own Intel but I feel they’re losing market share to AMD. Call me. Joey Ramone.” Could this really be the man responsible for such classics as “Sheena is a Punk Rocker”, “Teenage Lobotomy” and “Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue”? “I finally e-mailed him back, and it was him, and we started having this great friendship about the markets. He was so informed and so intelligent about the markets. A really good investor.” But, for Ramone, there was clearly more than the markets to the friendship because when his solo album appeared shortly after his death from cancer in 2001, it included a love song entitled “Maria Bartiromo”. The uncharacteristically lyrical number’s chorus goes: “I watch you on the TV every single day./Those eyes make everything okay./I watch her every day./I watch her every night./She’s really outta sight.” “After he passed away, so many of the band members and friends called me and said: ‘Joey loved you.’” Bartiromo admits that her own musical tastes are more Frank Sinatra than Joey Ramone, and her husband accuses her of being uncool. “I say, no I’m not. Joey Ramone wrote a song about me. It doesn’t matter how many times I listen to Shirley Bassey - I’m cool.”

Yes you are Maria - of course the "The Coolest" spot hasn't been awarded yet...

In my courses, we're in the midst of semi-useless material. What I'd prefer to teach is something socio-political. For example - A person's anger directed at homosexuality is Inversely proportional to the security of their orientation.

Little Porter is often placed on the floor with a basket of goods. We are responsible enough to keep him more than a body length away from any sharp objects just in case he topples. Now you'd think that a toppling toddler would create quite a racket - not so. In fact, I'm pleased (or scared) to admit that it doesn't phase him. Stuntman? Couch Potato? what does the future hold for such an easy going guy?

Its been a long time. In fact, it took a few login attempts to even make this post. And while there is little need to rehash the last month or two - I feel a renewed sense of communicating; posting. Buzzed Driving is Drunk Driving Who in the federal government actually thought of this? It defies usual bureaucratic nonsense. It is actually pretty cool and thought provoking. I'm sure that by now the creator has been terminated, but every holiday season their work will resurface like satsumas, like a bit-o-goodwill and like that gum-smacking Spears family guesting on countless shows to no avail. What is The Bush up to? Anyone heard from him lately? Sure, he signed a bill or two, squashed rights, but that's all in a days work. This is no Halloween treat. This is the calm before the storm. Because the only other explanation scares the cr#p out of me...that he's laying low to help Republicans win (or compete in) elections. $20! Watching tv with Natalie. Commercial for those enticing KFC 'bowls' came on. Offered Natalie $20 if she would eat one. Her answer...no! No? I'd eat one for an apple fritter. and finally, Dan the Man I know many a cool dude or chick. I am me afterall. Dan's way up there. In some weird way, simple ideas bounce back and forth and turn into magic. Case in point, the Pole Position Personal Computer. We met up with Dan at the recent wedding chronicled by Natalie and were soon knee deep in the bs. There was no clear product, but we did start work on "How To Tell If You Are Successful (or successfully employed)". It seemed appropriate since Dan is finishing law school and is somewhat eager to make money. Finalists for the list include: You are offered, but turn down, a fancy sportscar and You have a standup arcade game at work.

Watched a re-broadcast of The Bush's speech yesterday. I don't know anyone who thinks that he is an effective speaker and I wanted to comment on one behaviour that I noticed. The Bush, like a toddler, always is waiting for praise/surprise/acknowledgement after each sentence. I think that in his mind he's experiencing this: Spoken: We had to put those men in a secret prison. Thought: They didn't all say 'wow' or 'ooohh'...hmmm...I better try another one... Spoken: If we didn't detain these men, they would attack 'Merica again. Thought: Still nothing...???...maybe I'll wait another second...still nothing...how about a little smile for the ladies...hmmm... Spoken: I can't tell you what interrogation tactics were used. Don't want terrorists to be trained to defeat 'em. Thought: Come On!...that had a 5-syllable word...all these blank expressions remind me of mom and dad..mmmm...I could sure go for some of mom's mac-n-cheese right now... Spoken: Lookit me, lookit me! Thought: Oops.

Hangin' out in the kitchen last night, XM radio on the seventies channel, Styx's Come Sail Away setting the place abuzz - and me thinking that rock doesn't get much better. That's all I can say about that.

The American Football Conference - the National Football Conference. The American League - the National League. (baseball) The Eastern Conference - the Western Conference. (basketball) What is the point? New teams come and go...teams move from one city to another...players are traded back-and-forth. These divisions, differences do nothing. When the baseball leagues battle each other at the All-Star Game, what's the prize? Home field advantage in the World Series. Big woop. Pledging allegience in an arbitrary, transitory and inconsequential setting is not reasoned rational behavior. Democrats - Republicans. I argue that this is little different. We all like making fun of certain people in office, but that doesn't make me a democratic supporter. Far from it. I want to take people or teams for what they are. Don't play up the rivalries, don't keep waving the banner of past accomplishments - talk about now and where you want to be in the future. And above all, be honest for once. This last weekend, I watched a Democratic Party Convention on C-Span. All presenters were tyring their best, like cheerleaders often do, to buld excitement and enthusiasm. There was talk about returning to the glory of the past, talk about current wrongs, and insane talk about turning it all around in 100 days - the length of time until the mid-term elections in November. What kind of cr@p is that? 100 days to return to glory?! As a viable candidate for president, I've got a few things going. I have a vision to build a future for the country enhanced by a nerd's singular focus on that which is interesting to him and I have the realistic knowledge that the plan is long-term; not a quick fix. I think this kind of focus is important. I'm not a multi-tasker. I'm not interested in dabbling in too many areas of the nation. My focus is on transportation systems, science/engineering/craftsman-trades education, and health care. Don't roll your eyes, don't say that I'm overlooking important areas like the working poor, foreign policies, immigration reform, civil liberties to all persons and fiscal management. Stop and think about my foci. As side-effects, they're going to take care of many of the other items.

Stella's up to it again and you better watch what you say. In a cruel twist of fate, any story you tell - any story about you or your experiences will be snatched/transformed/regurgitated by the girl. You chugged a 2-liter bottle of Dr. Pepper? Not any longer. Stella did. You had first row tickets to see Debbie Gibson? Nope. You think The Bush is a moron? Well, actually, I guess everyone does - that doesn't count. You get the idea? So does Stella. I guess I'm left with thinking of ways to use this to my advantage.

Just got done posting about four-letter words and wanted to elaborate on the embarrasment I felt. Of all "negative" emotions/feelings, embarrasment will stop a nerd cold. Thought you'd like to know - you know, this is like one of those damn "The More You Know" psa's. So, if you ever find yourself feeling threatened by a nerd or are facing a nerd-gone-wild at a party...embarass them. Don't worry about payback either. The nerd will never get around to putting his or her elaborately concocted revenge plan in to action. The nerd's reliance on transporters, cyborgs, Scully from X-files, pop rocks, King Cobra malt liquor, Sergio Valente jeans and tapioca ultimately ruins their grand vision.