This is a cooking blog with a back story. It focuses on food, family, fiber arts, pets, friends, and fibromyalgia. It's about life at a certain age, the joys, the sorrows, the backaches, the mental confusion. There's a lot of kvetching, complaining, occasional profanity, righteous indignation, political incorrectness, knitting exhortations, and really good, original recipes.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Fanfare for the Common Man
Happy Independence Day, America. And congratulations to all the new citizens of this wonderful country. Much nicer having your naturalization ceremony held at Sea World instead of inside some stuffy courtroom.
Speaking of stuffy courtrooms ... well, the jury is still out. And probably will be at least another few days. I did really enjoy Judge Perry's jury instructions, including that point when he warned the jury against communicating with the outside through Twitter or Facebook or other social network media. Who could have imagined that would ever become necessary? As a lawyer who does not do adult criminal law, I learned quite a lot from watching this trial. Yes, I am trying to make excuses for my obsession.
Well, let's talk about that for just a moment. Why are so many of us obsessed with this trial? How is it that I am watching Nancy Grace every night, when I have openly mocked her in the past? Why are all of you doing the same thing?
There's nothing else to watch on TV except reruns of "Ghosthunters".
Forget Casey Anthony. That Jose' Baez is HOT!
Casey Anthony trial? I thought this was an episode of CSI ...
But seriously - and this is a serious matter, dead serious - I am blown away by the fact that this accused murderer is less than a year older than my own child. I am horrified that this has happened practically in my back yard, in Orlando, "The City Beautiful." I am amazed that this family never came to the attention of DCF (but believe, as ASA Linda Drane Burdick remarked, that Caylee was healthy, well-fed, and well-cared for because she was living with her grandparents.) I am personally, morally challenged by the idea that if convicted, this mother could be put to death. I am regretting never having pursued a career with the State Attorney's Office. And, having never done a jury trial in my almost 20 year career, I treated it as the ultimate post-J.D. law school experience.
In a few days, it will be all over. And there will be another victim, another cause, another symbol of human depravity. Speaking of depravity, did you all know that Michele Bachmann's husband runs a clinic that utilizes therapy that seeks to convert gays into straights? Faster than you can spell "political liability", huh? I didn't think there was anyone around stupid enough to claim that homosexuality could be "cured", and this dimbulb, wannabe "First Husband" is running a damn clinic. Not only do a lot of politicians suffer from low grade antisocial personality disorder, their spouses are not too firmly anchored either.
My spouse, on the other hand, is very well-anchored ...
While watching the rebuttal closing and listening to the "Verdict Watch", I have worked my way through the recipes for Seafood Manicotti and Smoked Salmon Alfredo Sauce. They are fussy and time-consuming and worth every second. Really delicious. A terrific casserole dish for a big crowd, and a nice alternative for those who don't always like red sauce or sausage in their manicotti. Me, I like both, but I'm an omnivore.
June 26, 2011
"Let the whacking begin!"
Seriously, that is what the dude announced over the loud speaker when the combat weapons competition began. And whack they did - those guys were vicious. Worse than when they spar, and that's pretty vicious, let me tell you. The crowd was wild . . . I finally plugged in my iPod and tuned it all out. There is something funny about watching two middle aged guys whacking at each other with big blue bats, all to the beat of Lady GaGa singing "Bad Romance."
"Let the whacking begin!"
I have never been a fan of crowds, and while I am a lot better than I used to be, I am officially on my last good nerve. While watching the Inauguration last evening, there were moments that I felt the overwhelming need to practice a ridge hand strike . . . on the bitch lady sitting in back of me. I controlled myself, but the mood carried over to today, which has resulted in some really critical people watching.
A few complaints - there are some high ranking ATA members who have no excuse to have to wear a uniform that was made by Omar the Tentmaker. Try to set a better example, people. If you have been doing taekwando as long as your rank indicates, you should be taking the lessons of Songahm to heart. Dignity, control, respect . . . lose the fifty pounds. Seriously.
Women who dress inappropriately - well, what can I say that I haven't said before? Kids who run wild while their parents sit in a nearby stupor. Yes sir or ma'am, get that child another high sugar drink. Swell idea.
I think I will not be finishing Antimony before the end of this trip, although I have been making my very best effort. I do love the feel of the mohair blend, and I haven't tired of the pattern. Starting tomorrow morning, we will be back in the car for long hours, which should translate to primo knitting time. If I don't fall asleep on the way to Big Bob Gibson's for his special white barbecue sauce.
Most importantly, today is my little girl's fourteenth birthday. My precious Teena, all seven-something pounds of her. Cory tells me she has picked out a spot in his room and when he wakes up, she is sleeping there. My sweet puppy never likes to sleep alone. Well, who can blame her?
A young Cory with a very young Teena and an even younger Ira