Here I Am!

9.30.4 Honk
Sweetie's car tried to go belly up, with both an oil leak and small pieces of the transmission (automatic) falling out. It's all fixed, $3K later. Not an auspicious beginning to Jiltoberfest. I have sworn by Suburus for a number of years, but a 1999 car shouldn't need a new transmission yet, especially when it's only driven about 6k miles/year. On a happier note, he won a few bucks in Vegas, and gave me a solid return on my $10 investment. I told him to play the Sinatra slots that handed me a couple hundred bucks in May, and he returned with $102. I didn't know it was a nickel machine. Poor Frank. He deserves a higher minimum bet.

I have been thinking about the debates more than I should. Since it's basically a contest between lies that make me angry and promises that will be broken, I don't think it should really matter too much.

The last year I lived in VA, I forced myself to take a public speaking class to get over the panicky fears of making speeches. It worked: my first speech I nearly passed out, and the last speech I argued against prayer in schools so passionately that one girl walked out of the classroom and there was a minor whoop-do-doo about me being all down with Satan. In the middle of that year, the teacher wanted me to fill a slot on what was called the forensics team and issued vague threats about what would happen to my grade if I didn't sign on. I had the extemporaneous slot, which meant I got my topic (related to "current events") about 45 minutes before the speech was to take place, and had to write it with no reference materials (my preparation was more about reading news magazines than speaking). When I heard that Mr. Bush spent the last week at his ranch to "practice" for the debates, my first reaction was, "geez, if small town sophomores can handle speaking about current events on the fly, why should a professional need a week to practice"? Maybe he's just behind on his news magazine reading, and needs a week to catch up. Or have someone read them to him. Or maybe it's just a time to go over the list of product placements. I really want to see a closeup of Bush drinking a Pepsi, a la Spider-Man's Dr. Pepper and Wolverine's frosty cold beer.

9.23.4 O Holy Pie
A few years ago, Ms. Clement and I talked about me entering a pie contest at the fair and writing about it. Now it has been written about, and kindly, but the level of detailed effort put into pie crust is, I find, slightly frightening. I do know that pie isn't something to order in a restaurant, even if it was featured on Twin Peaks.

Actually, all American desserts are generally better at home. We didn't have long-standing professional bakers guilds, but we still had a sweet tooth. Instead of crispy butter cookies, we have gooey brownies. Instead of brioche, we have gooey cinnamon rolls. Instead of croissants, we have gooey monkey bread. Instead of elegant tortes, we have glittery cupcakes, sometimes with feathers, but rarely gooey. Instead of even more elegant pure fruit tarts with creme fraiche, we have giant-sized crumb-topped fruit pies with a layer of custard underneath. Instead of mousse, we have pudding in a cloud. Desserts we get in restaurants tend to be far more of the Euro variety; that is what they teach in school. I would rather have my croissants made in a bakery, but bakery brownies and cookies are never really worth it.

Now I think I need to go make a pie. You probably agree me.

9.22.4 Meta Mundane
I do think Kerry is going to win, but I am also dreading what will happen no matter who wins. It's pretty obvious that unless a huge pile of secret voters turn out that the final call is going to be extremely close. Clearly, the Democrats aren't going to just go quietly into the dark night and have a repeat of the last election, if there's a split between the popular vote and the electoral college. Clearly, IRV isn't happening just yet. Clearly, the losing side will be hollering about conspiracy in the media and the voting process and everything else they can think of, and they will probably be right. I'm thinking that if I get really, really drunk on election night, I might not notice what happens until Thanksgiving, when I will have either been secretly transported over the border or Everything Will Be Just Fine.

Part of the reason that EWBJF is that I have new slippers. They're lined with space foam, so I sort of bounce when I walk, and everyone should get some because they are wonderful, perfect, amazing slippers. I'm walking on sunshine, ooohyeah, and don't it feel good. Hey.

There is a tiny but important fact about Mr. Heinz IV that I have learned recently. He makes geek armor for SCA-type stuff. Now there's an untapped interest group. I bet people who think they're elves don't vote, but I bet the hobbits do. Protect the shire! (Also, he's way into a very Kill Bill sort of thing. Between this kid and the Evil Hippie Kid, I am totally impressed by Mrs. Heinz Kerry's parenting skills. What interesting children! (meanwhile the Bush girls just hang out drinking at NYC secret hangout clubs. How boring.)

9.10.Big.Fat.Hen
Things I Am Tired Of:
1. Aphids all over the new growth on wee Rosie the Rose. They. Are. Gross.
2. Seemingly random allergy problems. Trees? Mold? This condo?
3. The loud, atonal voices of the collection of folk who drink very close to the building's front door. My latest "help the homeless" brainchild is providing elecutionists and conversation skill training. Less interruption, less yelling, more expression.

Things That Currently Hurt:
1. Left leg
2. Left wrist
3. Lower right side of back
4. Sinuses

Reasons To Have A Nice Day Regardless of The Two Previous Lists:
1. Warm chocolate chip cookies for lunch.
2. Pickle making this weekend.
3. Being finished with the damnable bathroom floor tiles for all time.
4. The loud people outside have already moved on.
5. The children who make insane monkey noises across the street are once again in school until 4:15.
6. An interesting interview from Mr. Heinz, who is clearly an Evil Hippie who wants all businesses to lose profit forevermore.
7. Plenty of monsters to kill.
8. The routine wonders of the web.
9. The Power of Cheese.

9.2.4 Roe Your Boat
I met Dale and Betsy Sharrow when I wrote something on domestic caviar a couple years ago. Back then, I learned pretty quickly that the international caviar supply was in a big mess, so I wasn't too surprised to see this today in the PI. Since I know none of you know diddly about geography, let this handy map assist you a little. Of the five countries that border the Caspian Sea, only Iran has real controls regarding illegal catch--or at least, bothers to punish the poachers. Granted, the poachers get the death penalty, but you know, well, it works. And nothing else does. Please note that these other links are from articles written in 2002. People have known this was coming, and anyone who pretends otherwise, like the people in the PI article who seem to think this is about paperwork, is only attempting to do stock market damage control. I recommend the death penalty for them, too.

In Seattle, there's a number of restaurants that use only domestic caviar, because of the Northwest-native-food connection. The farmed sturgeon caviar from California is really excellent, and there's also the Golden Paddlefish that is not only excellent but even affordable--and it has a beautiful golden color, as you might expect from a fish by that name.

It's overwhelming, isn't it? Since it's been a while since I posted this link, let me give it again: the Clip-N-Save Seafood Watch card you can stick in your wallet. The second part of this card to making this card work is trickier, because it's about you. Don't shy away from asking annoying questions of your servers in restaurants, and don't buy retail fish or shellfish that don't declare the catching method on the package. Chances are, if it's a good deal, like those frozen bags of Costco shrimp, there's a problem. If there's an EcoFish label on it, chances are it's good. And further chances are that in a few years, fish farm pollutants will reverse this list. The card changes frequently; updating your wallet every 3-6 months is about right.

Might I recommend we all start living out of victory gardens again? If I was president, that's what I tell people to do. Victory gardens. Anything else just leads to confusion and guilt.

9.1.4 No Arms, No Legs, In The Ocean
I learned lately that I am the only person I actually know (if, that is, I actually know myself) that remembers a weird little program from MS known as BOB. Mrs. Gates was actually lead poobah on BOB, during her engagement period with Mr. Gates. While this old Salon article doesn't mention that connection, for me it brings up the possibility that Melinda is, in fact, some kind of Stepford AI thing, rather than a Real Girl. Not because of anything that she does or doesn't do, but because clearly, it's the Way of MS to insert smiling assistant types where none is really necessary.