If you haven’t been reading my blog for any length of time, then you need to know that my idea of Wordless Wednesday is to write less than four or five pages in a single post and add photos. That would be today, even though the orange glow of the setting sun on the houses across the street reminds me that this is easily categorized as better late than never.

Whatever.

I have a foodie blog friend who lives in Ohio who often mentions their weather in less than loving terms. Suffice it to say that her description of mornings finding her car door frozen shut have been quite colorful and completely hilarious.

I have been hounding her for photographs of her home town all winter, and yesterday I received them. Oh. My. Goodness. I had a clue because my mom recently moved to upstate New York and has sent me a few, but she isn’t out in her car. No sirree.

So… I ran outside and took a few of my own photos to warm her up. I figured since most of you live in places much more…um…FRIGID than I do, I’d warm you up also.

It has been in the mid-seventies for two days now. Even I like it which is semi-miraculous considering the grumpster I am about Paradise and sunshine.

We slept with our windows open last night, and today?

Today I put on my shorts, went for a walk, and sat down by the beach waiting for the RTR to finish up with his math tutor (news at eleven…) and watched the surfers.

Totally excellent. Dude.

*If you want to make a comment, please click on the title of the post…sorry. Don’t know why the comment button at the bottom of the post isn’t functional. I’ll get around to figuring it out after I’m done complaining.*

I’ve been biting my tongue about politics and the various campaigns for the presidency. It isn’t because I don’t have an opinion. Hell will freeze over before I am caught without an opinion, let alone one as important as how the next four to eight years of my life will be influenced. That’s right. When you really get down to business, it’s really all about me.

Just kidding.

But I have been circling my wagons, and keeping an eye on the situation. It’s quite challenging to watch debates like the one CNN aired last night when I was lovingly kneading what would turn out to be a fragrant braid of Finnish Pulla. Does Mitt Romney ever, EVER stop talking? And does he ever NOT have that smirk on his face? I can barely bring myself to listen to anything he says. And when I hear him, I don’t believe any of it.

Remember the old Charlie Brown cartoons on television? When the adults spoke, they sounded like, “Mwha-wah-wha-mwah-wah-ah…”. That would be Mitt for me, except his diatribe is more like, “blahblahblahblahdee-blahdee-blahhhhhhh. Chuckle.” Go ahead and plug your nose, grin like a silly ass and try it. It’s annoying. He’s annoying. His eyes are glittery, which can’t be good. And he’s accomplished at the “he said, she said” junior high school game which doesn’t look good on a man in his position. Wait. Dubyah’s good at it, too.

Ugh. It’s all so depressing. *this is the part where Chicken Little can be heard saying, “The sky is falling…the sky is falling…”*

Not too long ago, NPR was interviewing people about the Republican candidate they’d most likely vote for and why, and more than one woman in the “my age” bracket actually mentioned that at least he “looked presidential,” and that’s why they’d vote for him.

Excuse me?

Don’t you wonder about people who actually don’t have a problem saying things like that for a national audience? Okay, so ANY audience. Oh. My. Gawd.

Or my personal favorite comes from women who state that they vote the way their husbands vote. You know, so they won’t cancel each other out? Huh? They’re kidding, right? As much as one might think these voters could be compared to June Cleaver, I’d say June was a tough mother and most likely had Ward voting her way or else he’d be sleeping with the Beev. Yanno?

 (more…)

Legal Celebration of Game!

In spite of completely ROTTEN refs and Peyton Commercial King Manning, the Sunshine Boys have won. Without L.T. and without their first string quarterback.

Clearly, the MoH and the RTR are not very happy…Bwahahahahahaha!

Of course the carnage on the field is allowing the New Cheating England Patriots some glee in anticipation of their supposed perfect season and Super Bowl win.

But.

The fat lady has not yet begun to sing.

Just wait.

Cheaters never win, Bill.

Screw the memes I have to do. (I really WILL do them. I promise. And my fingers are NOT crossed behind my back.)

But the MoH and I had the perfect recipe for a Monday. We went to our local cook’s haven, Great News in Pacific Beach and spent the evening with Brian Malarkey.

What?

You don’t know who Brian Malarkey is? Feh. Where have you been? He was one of the finalists on Top Chef this year, and the recipient of Chef of the Year from the San Diego Restaurant Association. Of course he should have won Top Chef, but that’s beside the point. WE got to enjoy his magnetic personality, sense of humor, and great cuisine tonight. Here. In Paradise. It was so worth it.

The sky was clear, the air clean, and the Pacific stretched as far as the eye could see. That orange glow was shimmering just above the deep blue horizon. Gorgeous. But a tad cool. Okay, so about 50 degrees F.

But I forgot my camera. So how convenient that we were an HOUR early and I could whiz home to get it and then slide into my seat and look forward to a couple of glasses (well…three if you count the one the MoH didn’t quite finish) of Two Buck Chuck. And the MoH says after the class, “That was pretty good…what was it?” “Koolaide,” I replied, “and you’ll be sorry in the morning.”  The MoH does not imbibe.

The menu for this cooking class was “Asian Inspired Malarkey.” Brian is the executive chef at The Oceanaire here in San Diego. Of course, we seemed to be the only people in the audience who hadn’t eaten there, but that’s because we’re busy paying taxes. We love to eat out, but only do so on special occasions during the year. Actually, we thought we’d enjoy The Oceanaire before this Monday’s class, but time has gotten away from us lately. One of my New Year’s resolutions is to improve our record in that department, getting out to try local food more than we do. I know. Quite the novel concept. Where would San Francisco be without all those Food Bloggers sampling local faire? S.O.L.

Ahem.

The menu Brian and his right hand man prepared for the 50+ group this evening was lovely:

Kumamoto Oysters on the Half Shell with an Asian Inspired Mignonette

Sesame Crusted Big Eye Tuna with Ocean Salad and Micro Wasabi

Shiitake Mushroom and Ginger Soup with Bean Sprouts and Cilantro

Japanese 7 Spice Petite Filet Mignon with Ginger Butter

Green Tea Ice Cream (from a local vendor whose name I regrettably did not get)

Y.U.M. Truly. We’d never had oysters before. Clams, yes. Mussels, yes. But oysters? Um. Nope. So this was big. And I appreciated what Brian had to say about them because the information helps when you slurp something live into your mouth and do notice the slightly briny “Mermaid’s Kiss” with a hint of cilantro as you swallow the creature and smile.

I did not get a stripe on my arm for this accomplishment, but I FEEL good. DAH-duh-DAH-duh-DAH-duh-DAH.

The Ahi Tuna? Oh. My. Sesame seeds all ‘round and seared and then sliced and served with a compound butter. Goodness. I love Ahi this way. But what really made it was the “ocean” salad we waited for while Brain took questions (mostly from the MoH) about his Top Chef experience. The seaweed, thinly sliced and plated under the ahi was perfect. Fresh . Crunchy. Amazing. Totally. I have seared ahi with sesame seeds, but would never have thought to have the seaweed. Who knew? Delicious. It has to be THE reason why I’m a morsel and not a lithe waif. *Make a note to strike the Barefoot Contessa like I didn’t already know this.* Just kidding, Ina. Could you send me a pound of buttah, please?

And Brian’s Top Chef experience details were interesting, too: He didn’t get to speak to his wife for FIVE weeks. They take away your wallet, your keys, your cell — everything. And then, if I’m getting this correctly, they send frequent letters reminding you of your obligation to remain silent on the outcome of the show. With respect to the filming, each day, there’s either a quick challenge, or a main preparation. In Brian’s opinion, the only quick challenge that mattered was the one that took place at the French Culinary Academy (I’m sure I’ve gotten this incorrect). And speaking of culinary academies in general, in his opinion, those interested in his line of work would be better served volunteering for a few hard days with a chef, then signing on to work in that kitchen (if you passed the chef’s scrutiny) and learning from the ground up. You’d earn money as you were learning, as opposed to paying nearly 50K going to an academy. Sounds good to me. Maybe in my next life since I’ve essentially learned by trial and error, reading, by example, and anything else that counts for the last 40 years or so.

Other points of interest in the evening: Brian recommended many local places to find great ingredients, and fresh food. I did know of a few, but a couple I can’t wait to schlep to are & Spice" target="_blank">San Diego Coffee, Tea, and Spice which concocts the spice mixtures Brian used, and Specialty Produce which is where the chefs in San Diego get their goods. Now how could I have NOT known about this? Unbelievable. I’m there this coming Saturday.

News at Eleven.

Anyway…it was a lovely evening. The worst part about it was the ending, and finding out that it was still Monday, instead of Friday, which would have been perfect.

An early birthday present for the MoH with more to come later in the week.

What’s up with these December babies, anyway?

Gluttons.

This morning when I popped out of bed… *wait, that was yesterday*

This morning, after I listened to the guy who rants each morning on the radio station the alarm is set on, I got up a bit more slowly than yesterday and went right to the window. I always do this. It’s a strange habit that helps me think about what kind of day it will be, thereby informing me about the attire I might don for the day. How sad is that?

But I’d opened the window about an inch last night just to hold the flashing demons at bay. Hot flash demons. Not demons who flash. Well, unless they’re menopausal demons, and then I supposed they’d flash. And if they were creative demons they could do that more than one way.

Moving right along…

Because the window was open, I could hear the sound it took us a while to adjust to when we first moved here. That distant roar when the wind is just right, or there’s been a storm in the Pacific. It was very loud this morning, and I could smell the salt in the air.

Of course I had to go outside and listen. I had to stand in my driveway and enjoy it, weather related phenomenon starved human that I am.

I went back in the house and had to tell the MoH, so I turned off the radio to his moaned, “Nooooooo…” and threw open the window. “Listen! Can you hear it? Cool, huh?” Although he was less than enthused, he didn’t throw anything at me, because he’s a weather sap, too.

I knew I’d be down oogling the waves before the day was out. But the MoH couldn’t wait. He drove down to the beach before work this morning.

Can’t you just smell the salt?

The air was misty blocks away, and the sidewalks damp.

The surfers were out in clusters, just waiting for that perfect wave.

And lifeguards were just waiting for that surfer who couldn’t quite make that perfect wave.

Spectators lined the coast to watch the show. There were so many people in business attire mixed in the crowd, the productivity level must have been non-existent in nearby offices.

The sea wall near the Children’s Pool was closed.

The seals were thoroughly uninterested, however, and basked as they normally do in the early afternoon sun.

Just another day in Paradise.

Nine days and counting on NaBloPoMo…Yay! It’s Friday. The downside is that the weekend is when I have a tendency to drop a posting day. But not this month! I’m on it, pecking away, and fighting with my date stamp which is completely driving me nuts…

November 9, 2007

Mike McConnell

Director of National Intelligence

Washington, D.C.

Dear Sir:

Although I’m sure that you’ve been briefed about the recent discovery of yet another boat left on the shore in a neighboring beach community, I felt the need to share a few thoughts I’ve had with respect to the idea of security in our country. Since this is the second such occurrence in less than two months, the last of which took place not two miles from my home, I’d say there should be some eyebrows raised about what constitutes “safe.”

I’m not paranoid, but still.

1. What difference does continuing to process everyone at the airport make if people can ride the surf packed in small boats in the dark and jump onto the shore to enter the country? Mind you, I’m not referring to the fact that they’re entering the country illegally. I’m suggesting that being able to enter in this fashion at all would be a problem. Where’s their security check-in processing and wand-style detector waving session?
2. It’s just wonderful that so much of everyone’s time is spent “securing the border” with those more concerned about “illegals” coming to work in the country as it is needing to know who they are and if they’re someone to be concerned about. Are you having a bit of that “it’s not my job” difficulty between your departments? The Border Patrol doesn’t speak to the Coast Guard who isn’t expected to acknowledge the existence of ICE. I’m sure I left one out.
3. Perhaps you are paying attention to the coastline, and you already knew who those people were that got out of those boats, and had decided that they were harmless. That you’d let the local authorities round them up at some point so people around here won’t get their panties in a wad because more undocumented people gained access to the land of opportunity. Yes, perhaps you knew.
4. I would hope that because Immigration and Customs Enforcement officials have recognized that human smuggling using boats is a “seasonal phenomenon in San Diego, with smugglers trying to blend in with pleasure boat traffic during warmer months,” that they also acknowledge that not many boats are out in the dark, especially near shore. Well at least not boats without lights, and packed with people who all happen to be wearing black. Now, they could be New Yorkers lost on their way to a party in L.A. by way of the Panama Canal, but still.
5. You might want to have some of your agents dress like drunks and lay on the rocks to keep an eye on things. Or, you could just pay the people who already do that. I haven’t seen any signs down at the shore that say “Will Spy for Booze,” but it’s only a matter of time if these boats keep pulling in.

Thanks for your time on this matter. I’m sure your departments or agencies, or whatever you call them will get this figured out and actually communicate on the matter.

Sincerely,

Me

p.s. You could probably call Arnold on this.

NaBloPoMo: I’m on it with a little hop in my step and a “tally-ho” spirit, raring to go. Onward and upward, and all that sort of crap. To quote my sister when she was very young and we had suffered yet another family trip crammed in the back of the blue VW bug, “Are we there yet?” No, dear. Just keep writing…

November 8, 2007

Board of Education Members

Bakersfield City School District

Dear Elected Members of the Board:

I never cease to be amazed that those who choose to sit as members of a school board seem to be obsessed with the most repulsive sort of demagoguery. With respect to this latest example of proof, congratulations.

I do believe that the U.S. Constitution states that “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof” and although you are most assuredly not members of the U.S. Congress, you are, as are we all, governed by that and all other amendments (even though judges enjoy the freedom to interpret them in their own way).

Additionally, the California Education Code, Section 220 states that, “No person shall be subjected to discrimination on the basis of sex, ethnic group identification, race, national origin, religion, color, mental or physical disability, or any actual or perceived characteristic…in any program or activity conducted by an education institution that receives, or benefits from, state financial assistance or enrolls pupils who receive state student financial aid.”

Therefore, your recent decision to place in 2,300 classrooms and other gathering places within your school district posters that read, “In Got We Trust,” is inappropriate on several levels. The fact that you feel you’re “not going to accept the agenda of some radical leftists who want to expunge God from public dialogue,” Mr. Vegas, is beside the point.

What is the point is that not every one chooses to practice your religion, share in your beliefs, or pray to the same god that you do, or pray at all — simply because they do not believe there is an entity to pray to. They are entitled to those beliefs just as you are, whether they are in the majority or not. Or should I say “accepted” majority?

Clearly you think them wrong. That they’re carrying the future of society and its children to hell in a hand basket. One that belongs to “radical leftists.” Perhaps the same “radical leftists” who pay taxes that end up in your school district’s coffers, and with whose funds will be used to pay for the “In God We Trust” posters you will purchase.

It’s a problem.

The kids won’t care because it’s just another adult pissing contest that is very “junior high” in its characteristics. The “in” clique got what they wanted, and in the process has engaged in name-calling of anyone who isn’t on their side. If you don’t think $12,000 worth of posters that will soon become faded wall paper should be in our schools, then you’re un-American.

Because we all know that our beliefs should be plastered on our bumpers, our homes, our classrooms, and on our sleeves. That we’re card-carrying members of the “I Believe” sect and anyone who doesn’t strut it is suspect.

It makes me sick to my stomach. How do these ridiculous humans get elected? Oh, that’s right. They get elected by other humans who aren’t satisfied wanting what they want for their own children; they want it for everyone else’s as well. Because our children must certainly be what’s wrong with society. Damn them heathens. Actually, what they want is to not have to pay for a private, religious based education. They want us to pay for it.

Ah, yes. America. The land of opportunity. You, too can have whatever you want, have someone else pay for it, and then complain about it or send it back after you decided you didn’t want it after all.

In conclusion, you may want to take a look at your district’s budget. This is the time of year when school administrators begin to organize their site finances for the next school year. Since could be losing quite a bit of state and federal funding due to your self-serving actions, you’ll have quite a bit of adjusting to do to make ends meet. And if you don’t lose the money there, then it will most likely go to court costs when someone files suit over your recent edict. But hey! At least you’ll have pretty posters on your walls that no one will notice in a few months.

And just think.  As board members, you only set policy. The educators then have to scramble to clean up your mess.

Now that you’ve had your moment in the sun, perhaps you might focus on whether students are ready for college. Hmmm?

Sincerely,

An American tax-payer

Let Freedom Ring