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?

1. There's nothing else to watch on TV except reruns of "Ghosthunters".
2. Forget Casey Anthony.  That Jose' Baez is HOT!
3. 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

Finally, you cry

The closing arguments are ongoing in the case of the State of Florida v. Casey Marie Anthony.  I have only watched a few minutes of Jeff Ashton's masterful recounting of the evidence, split-screen with a shot of the defendant.  Of course, everyone is waiting to hear what Jose Baez has to say, especially as Judge Perry has ruled that he may not discuss those sexual abuse allegations against Lee and George.

While waiting for the recess to end, I was reading on my Facebook page and learned with the greatest sadness that one of my coworkers lost her husband in a terrible accident yesterday.  He was only 30 years old.  The phrase "I am sorry for your loss" says nothing and everything.  My personal pain at the thought of a young adult - practically a child by my time line - having to deal with death and widowhood is profound.  At the same time, it is not my place to express that and add to her pain.  And thus that shopworn phrase.  As a mother, as a human being, it hurts to watch others in the worst pain imaginable.  It is also a selfish indulgence to express that to the bereaved.  My sadness is nothing; her sadness is everything.  May a gracious God watch over her and give her the strength she will need.

I was planning on watching Attorney Baez do his closing, but after he fumphfed a few dozen times, I gave up and came back to the computer.  Yes, he did try to pull another fast one, using a photo of his client at the age of 15 as part of a chart entitled "Casey's Imaginary Friends" but the state and Judge Perry shut him down before the jury ever got to see it.  It was, I think, the final example of a certain disingenuousness from this attorney that has pervaded the proceedings.  For when Judge Perry asked when the photo had been taken, and then how old Ms. Anthony had been in 2001, Jose Baez pled ignorance.  In addition to an almost complete absence of knowledge of the law and court procedure, Mr. Baez is apparently unable to perform simple arithmetic computations.  Jose, you disingenuous dork, ASA Linda Burdick was absolutely correct when she said your client was 15 years old in that picture.  Like you didn't know.

During the state's closing argument, Casey cried.  And cried.  And cried.  But not so much that she messed up her mascara.  She has been very careful throughout the trial, during those few times she shed tears, to pat her eyes so as not to smear her mascara, and today was no different.

LATER:  Cheney Mason's part of the closing argument sounded like a generic speech he wrote during his first few years out of law school.  The old country lawyer invoking the Constitution.  Sound and fury, signifying nothing.  State's rebuttal tomorrow.

I still have a family to feed, and managed to fit a trip to Publix in among the legal proceedings.  There are plans afoot for cooking, and I finally settled on a spinach-shrimp salad with hot bacon dressing, seafood manicotti with a smoked salmon alfredo sauce, and an Italian sausage and vegetable soup.  Once I got there, I also found a really nice piece of chuck pot roast, and although the rest of the cooking will be done tomorrow, I threw together a few things and came out with a pretty simple but really tasty dish.  Yeah, I do share recipes.  Check the sister blog for the details.

One more thing about the court proceedings - Judge Perry had another opportunity to admonish the attorneys in this case; this time it had to do with ASA Jeff Ashton having a hard time keeping a straight face while Jose Baez wailed the blues.  Dear God in Heaven, I thought Jose was going to start to cry as his voice shook and quavered through his closing remarks.  That rated as one of the worst closing arguments I've ever seen.  His Trial Practice professor should be chastised for failing to explain to Jose that there is a big difference between expressing righteous indignation and lapsing into uncontrolled hysteria during a closing.  I realize that Judge Perry is determined to maintain the decorum of a courtroom, but smiling or smirking behind my hands would have been my least reaction, assuming I was the state attorney, if I'd been forced to listen to Baez's drivel.  When he called Ashton "that laughing man" and everybody objected, it was the best comic relief since Ashton's pig in blanket quip a few weeks back.

More road-blog-a-logue - from mostly sunny Little Rock:

June 24, 2011

We are at the Statehouse Convention Center to watch Master Casco test for 7th degree black belt. Rob's brother Charles arrived here last night, and both he and Rob will be testing for top ten in their respective groups later this afternoon. Walking around the convention center, I spied one of the screens broadcasting the daily events at the precise moment it flashed the date.

Friday, June 24.

Never mind the year. June 24 is always an important day for me, because it is my father's yahrzeit - the memorial day of his death. When June 24 falls on a Friday, it is particularly poignant for me, as he died on a Friday, just as the setting sun signaled the beginning of Shabbat, the Jewish Sabbath.

My Pop, sometime between 1973 and 1978

Twenty eight years and I still miss him.  I wish I could talk to him one more time.  I have so many questions, and I want so much to tell him about his grandson.  It would be a long conversation.

It is freezing here in the convention center. While it is true that I am making good progress on the Antimony shawl, there is no way I am going to get it done in time to stay warm today.

      

Master Fidel Casco preparing to test for seventh degree

What an exciting day! Rob won third place, and Charles won second place in their respective rings for sparring. We had barbecue at Whole Hog for dinner. And the New York State Senate has just passed a law legalizing same sex marriage.

My brother in law Charles takes second place

Rob takes third place - don't mess with this group of guys, they've got mad skills!

Don't forget to stop by the recipe blog for the Italian pot roast recipe.  Hey, it was cheaper than the brisket!

Liars figure, but figures don't lie

In my opinion -

Yeah, George Anthony did have an affair with that floozy.  Which means he lied on the stand.  Which doesn't mean he lied about anything else.  By the way, am I the only one who noticed that the $4000 that River Cruz (what a name!) aka Krystal Holloway got for her interview with the National Inquirer is the same amount of money she claims she gave George?

And yeah, Cindy Anthony lied about making those internet searches and about the ladder being left up on the pool.  Big deal.  Any mother would lie to keep her child from facing the death penalty.  Even for a child who was an ungrateful psychopath like Casey.  Of course, with the State calling her former employers as rebuttal witnesses today, and the mood Judge Perry is in, she may just be facing some major perjury charges.  Maybe Cindy and Casey can share a cell in the Orange County Jail, before Casey is shipped off to Lowell Women's Correctional.

Lee Anthony is a pathetic whiner who was pathologically jealous of the attention his sister and niece were getting from his parents.  Grow up, Lee.  Could he have tried to get frisky with his own sister?  I guess we'll never know since everyone forgot to ask him while he was under oath.

Juries are very strange animals.  Don't be so sure you know what their verdict will be.  And remember, guilty people get away with murder all the time, while innocent people serve unwarranted prison terms. 

If there was an Olympics category for lying, Team Anthony would win it, no question about it.  Watching them in action brings to mind my mother railing against lies and liars.  It was a good lesson to teach us, a lesson all parents should teach their children.  "Liars are the worst," she would remind us.  In my house, that fell into the "do as I say, not as I do" category of childhood lessons, because, well ... my mother was a liar.  An accomplished liar, I might add.  She just could not tolerate anyone lying TO HER.  Certainly she did not present that as part of her lesson, and she worked long and hard to protect and perpetuate her lies.  Lying is wrong, lying is damaging, lying can be evil.  Being forced to lie is toxic to the soul, painful to the psyche.  This I know from personal experience.  But I feel compelled to mention that I have never murdered anyone as a result of the deficits in my upbringing.

Friday evening I swooped into Publix yet again to garner the ingredients for a chicken wing recipe that had caught my eye.  It was so ridiculously easy it couldn't work, right?  And with Coca Cola as a main ingredient, it had to be awful, right?  All reviewers except for one gave it high marks.  That one said it was the worst thing she had ever tasted and she wouldn't feed it to her dog.  Well, with a single dissenting post like that, I had to try it, didn't I?

These are not like any chicken wing you have ever eaten in your favorite sports bar.  They are neither grilled nor deep-fried.  You wouldn't top a waffle with them.  You would sit all alone in the middle of the night when the rest of your family was sleeping upstairs and scarf down a whole pound by yourself.  Of course I'll post the ingredients and directions on the recipe blog.

I have been back in the office for three days and I'm ready for another vacation.  Since I can't do that, I'll relive my last trip instead:

 

June 22 and June 23, 2011
The day did not go the way I had planned. Got as far as breakfast and then crashed back to bed for another few hours. The sky was threatening more rain, and we decided to get on the road to Little Rock without the anticipated side trip to Beale Street. And that was more than okay with me, as I was over Tennessee. Not sure why . . . Glad to be back in Arkansas. Back at last year's hotel. And it was Pizza Night!

 

LATER: the worst time we ever had during a Little Rock trip was in 2006. The reasons for this were actually external, non repeatable, and irrelevant to this story. Still, I remember it well. This is our fourth trip since then, with last year being the best of all years. I remember that very well, and have tried to repeat the things that I thought made it so excellent, but it's not exactly working, so while this is nowhere as traumatic as 2006, it will never be another 2010. I wonder if it is time for me to rethink the whole turn-the-ATA-competition-into-a family-vacation routine that we have followed the past seven years.

Maybe it's the weather, which has been overcast and rainy most days. Maybe it is the fact that Rob and I are both missing Cory on this trip. Maybe it was the disappointing lunch at Central BBQ, or the fact that I am still fighting the same UTI I have been dealing with since the cruise. Besides the obvious discomfort, it is leaving me more tired than usual. Perhaps it is the fact that the Marriott hotels we have stopped at - all of them repeat stops - seem tired themselves, and not quite as spiffy as in years past. With the exception of our trip to Panama City Beach, I have booked Marriott exclusively, and now I am wondering if I should not broaden my horizons. Funky smell emanating from, of all things, the air conditioner unit in Memphis. A nasty bug in Little Rock, and this really bothers me as this is a relatively new hotel, and the difference between this year and last year is noticeable. A little rundown, a little shabby. In both Memphis and Little Rock, the free in room wifi is notional - sometimes it's there, and sometimes it is not. Neither Kodak nor Atlanta had in room wifi, and while there was supposed to be wifi in at least one of the lobbies, I could never gain access. All of the free breakfasts have been cut back to something barely utilitarian. Maybe it is the fact that Hobby Lobby has cut back it's yarn department to a mere shadow of it's former glory. Every year I check with the hope it is in a period of regrowth, and every year all I see is the Incredible Shrinking Yarn Department. Are we back to the days when I am the only person knitting within a 20 mile radius? I admit it was worse in Korea - no yarn, no needles, and no chocolate - but I am part of an online knitting community which makes it seem as though there are millions of us, so where is everybody? Has the Yarn Harlot lived in vain? And I suppose it doesn't help my mood that this is the first year I will be unable to go to Knitch in Atlanta, because the store is gone. Oh, I can order online, but nothing beats perusing yarn, petting yarn, drinking in the colors of the yarn, treating oneself to a set of smooth, warm, ridiculously expensive rosewood needles, chatting with the yarn-crazy staff, and admiring their handiwork in the form of gorgeously draped sample shawls, scarves, and sweaters.

Maybe I am just getting old.

Lunch at On the Border

There are good things happening, such as our lovely afternoon with Vickie, Brieanna, and Brandon. The dinner at the Chop House in Kodak and the lunch at On the Border were quite nice. And there are some really good restaurants here in Little Rock, at least they were really good last year. The event itself is entirely enjoyable from the Top Ten to the Opening Ceremony at Verizon Arena, to the regular tournament on Sunday. This year is special, as our Chief Instructor, Master Fidel Casco, is testing for his 7th Degree Black Belt. We were here in 2005 when he became a Master instead of a Mister. That was a terrific ceremony. This year the Opening Ceremony is being done on Saturday rather than Friday night, and it is being called the Inauguration of Songahm's 3rd Grand Master. Should be magnificent.

With all that said, the World Championships ain't what they used to be. Most noticeably missing are our friends, Betty and Frank Curatolo, and Elaine Jandersit. Part of the enjoyment of this event was meeting up with them here, cheering at their rings and having them cheer at Rob's and Cory's, sneering them for our last night dinner at Benihana's, and all the while, much laughter. This is the second year they were unable to attend due to medical restrictions, and I miss them keenly.

The economy has cast a pall over everything, and I think that is to blame for a great number of the things I have crabbed about. The number of vendors at these events gets smaller every year. The little niceties we took for granted at the hotels have been cut back. The staff, while not rude or unhelpful, are not as cheerful as they used to be and who can blame them?

Enter the Purple Cow.

The Purple Cow's version of Cobb Salad

Rob and I had driven to downtown L.R., to the Statehouse Convention Center so he could take care of registration matters. On the way back, we decided on the important stuff - lunch and dinner. Corky's for dinner, and for lunch ... a restaurant that has been right there in our neighborhood, in our faces, since the first year we came here. The Purple Cow is directly across from the IHOP, the Starbucks, and the Kobe's that we frequent, and we still don't know why we ignored it. But we won't be ignoring it in the future.

Rob signs up for Top 10 Competition at the Statehouse Convention Center

UPDATE: never made it to Corky's. Too much food leftover, plus it was Sliders Night at the hotel.

 

What happened today at the Casey Anthony trial is why I have little faith in the jury system. Grandmother Cindy Anthony must have suddenly realized she might be directly responsible for sending her daughter to the lethal injection table, so she did what any mother would do - she got up on the stand again, this time as a witness for the defense, and lied. The big question is, does her lie create sufficient reasonable doubt to derail the jury from a conviction? I'm not talking death penalty here - I have never expected any jury to give Casey the death penalty - but could she walk out of the courtroom a free woman? All it takes is one juror to fail to recognize what Cindy Anthony's testimony was all about. I will stick with bench trials, thank you very much. But if Casey Anthony walks without so much as an aggravated child abuse conviction, Nancy Grace's head is going to explode.

My Heart is Full

June 30/July 1, 2011

I am so thrilled for my friend, co-counsel, and former student, Tony. His adoption of a young man presently in foster care is moving forward nicely. This weekend, the child will be moving into the home that Tony shares with his partner of many years. That this is able to happen in Florida, a state previously not known for treating it's gay citizens fairly, is breathtaking. Take THAT Anita Bryant!

I am also proud of my home state of New York, passing the law to legalize same-sex marriage, and I am deeply gratified by the positive reactions openly expressed by so many straights. With all it's problems and natural disasters, this is still a better world than the one in which I grew up. Every year, every generation, we get a little closer to Gene Roddenberry's vision of a world without racism or prejudice. Although I think the Great Bird of the Universe was beyond prophetic in his understanding that of all the evils, sexism would be the last to go. You Trekkies who remember the very last episode of the original series to be broadcast understand where I'm going with this ... I just hope we get to see a female President sooner than the Star Trek universe appointed the first female Starship Captain. Yeah, I'm still ticked off about Hillary. She would have been an awesome POTUS.

Let's talk about religion.

I guess the greatest bit of generation-shock to me comes from my observation that religion seems to matter very little between married couples. Although we baby boomers supposedly changed the world with our outspoken liberalism, that spirit did not seem to extend to my group of close friends. Almost all of us married "in." We all raised our children with some version of our birth religions. I wouldn't have even dated "out" of my religion; I was terrified of my parent's reaction, and besides, what did I have in common with a boy who had been raised in a different religion, and therefore a different ethnic and cultural environment?  And yet, the kids today have no such emotional constraints. All in one generation. While it feels weird to me, there are many people who would consider it progress. Oh, brave new world ...  incidentally, it has occurred to me that we need Aggressive Atheists just as we need the ACLU.  You may get annoyed at some of their tactics, but we need them to keep us honest.  Really. 

And the defense rests ...

I'm not sure what was bigger news in the Casey Anthony case - that the defense rested without putting the defendant on the stand, or that Judge Perry sentenced a 28 year old court spectator to 6 days in the Orange County Jail for flipping the bird at prosecutor Jeff Ashton in open court.

Since I would no more disrespect the court than I would have dated a non-Jewish boy back in the day, my vote goes to my very own Chief Judge, Belvin Perry.

Back to Tennessee by way of the Road Blog-a-logue ...

June 20, 2011

Eastern Tennessee is different from other parts of the country in which I have spent time. Despite attractions like Dollywood, the area has a depressed feeling. Some of this is no doubt attributable to the recent floods and tornados which created so much physical, financial, and emotional damage, but I can also see that there is a chronicity to the economic downturn which has this area in it's grip. The outlying areas, with their views of the mountains, is undeniably lovely. But we are spending a little time waiting in a place called Morristown, which despite having a mall and all sorts of government buildings, has a tired look to it that can't be explained away by the overcast skies.

        

But it is in this little town that we had the high spot of our trip so far, and that was our visit with very dear friends who moved here from Florida several years ago. Our history with Vickie and Chris and their grandkids is so very special and there is a lot I can't talk about because it involved the courts . . . anyway, we met them at the Little Dutch Restaurant for a long lunch, and caught up on everything and everybody, and Rob took pictures, and Vickie and I leaked tears and there was a lot of hugging. My heart is full.

More about the food - lunch at the Little Dutch was good, not great, but I have to say that the staff there was so very pleasant and I really enjoyed the soup and salad bar, so if you ever pass through Morristown you should stop there for lunch. Dinner was at the Chop House, right across from our hotel in Kodak, and it was delicious. I had lamb chops! Me lurves lamb chops, and the Parmesan creamed spinach, and the Cosmopolitan. Rob had a rib eye steak and sweet potato fries which I don't get but he loves.  

          

And then we caught up on the Casey Anthony trial. Holy cannoli, but my chief judge was madder than a wet hen. And then there was the defense witness, a certain Doctor Spitz, the best expert your money can buy. For $5,000 a day you can get him to accuse the Orange County Medical Examiner's Office, which is headed up by Dr. Jan Garavaglia, aka Dr. G, of staging the photos they took during the autopsy of Caylee Marie. "Old Fool" is the kindest thing I can say about him.

Tomorrow we head out to Memphis for Beale Street and barbecue. If we time it right, there will be Jack in the Box for one damn greasy, soul-satisfying lunch.

June 21, 2011

I am having a knitting crisis. Having made excellent progress on Antimony, my happy knitting came to an abrupt halt when the circular needles separated at the joining of needle and cable. It's not broken beyond repair, but up until this point I have never had the need to pack a tube of super glue along with the other important travel items like Hershey's kisses. I learned the hard way to never leave home without a backup supply of chocolate. Now I will add super glue to the list. For now, I am grateful I am driving through one of the lower 48, as I can expect to pass a Walmart before the day is done. Until then, I will work on the spiral galaxy socks.

If you are a reader of mystery books, then you probably heard of Dr. William Bass and the Body Farm long before the experts for the Casey Anthony trial started mentioning them. First time I learned about the Body Farm was while reading Patricia Cornwell's Scarpetta series. Driving past Knoxville, I got a cheap thrill of recognition seeing the signs for the University of Tennessee. Art resembles Life resembles Art . . .

Tennessee is an odd state, and I can't decide whether or not I like it. There are some states, like Mississippi and Alabama, that I actively avoid, and then there are other states, like Georgia, that I look forward to. Tennessee doesn't fit either category. And while driving cross state on Interstate 40, it occurred to me that it lacks a cohesiveness, and is really three states within one border.

Walmart came through as usual, and I am back working on Antimony.  But there was a Crisis in Nashville when we realized our Jack in the Box was out of business.  As it turned out, this was the harbinger of a Bad Food Day.

         

Driving past Nashville, and the remains of our Jack in the Box

LATER: we made it to Memphis, and headed for dinner to a barbecue joint we had picked out a while back. How could Memphis have bad barbecue? And I checked Trip Advisor, which has always given me an accurate sense of how good a restaurant really is. And this one had been rated really good by almost everyone. The place itself was fine, a little divey as you would expect, with a good menu full of choices. The only problem was the food itself. The ribs were oversmoked, although I never thought such a thing was possible. I love smoke, and I've done my share of home smoking, and I know low and slow is the way to go, but these baby backs had been left in the smoker way past the pulling point. The dry rub was too spicy for the general public - meaning me - and the sauces were mediocre. The side dishes were a huge disappointment. So if you are passing through Memphis, you may want to keep passing by Central BBQ. Try Jim Neely's Interstate Barbecue instead. We went there last year, and it was awesome.

         

Great sign, mediocre barbecue

Road Blog-a-logue Begins (with apologies for the delay. The google ate my blog controls)

What a cold psychobitch.

In my line of work I have come across parents who have been diagnosed with antisocial personality and they are not nice people. There is a total lack of basic human empathy which is discomforting to most people in their presence. APDs are also very charming and personable, which is why they generally enter a life of crime or politics.

I have never seen one as openly pathological as Casey Anthony, though. I wish I could be a fly on the wall when the jury begins to deliberate. And from now until the day I die, when I lapse into self-pity over the dysfunction I experienced growing up with my grandparents and brother, I will think about the Anthony family and realize it could have been a lot worse.

Having been separated from my kitchen for ten days, there was no doubt in my mind that I was going to have to cook something, anything tonight. By adapting a recipe from Guy Fieri, I came up with a good way to utilize pork chops. I got to chop onions, and that is always relaxing. Weird, I know.

Vacation and travel blog posts and pictures will be going up over the next few days. There are a lot of pictures of food, and you may have to restrain yourself from licking the screen. And check the recipe blog for pork chops with drunken sausage gravy.

And now, from the "Old friends are the best friends" department:

Happy 37th anniversary, Mark and Sandy.  Let's thank Tony Robinson for bringing us all together, so to speak.  Although for a while, I thought Sandy and I were going to be stranded in the Shawangunks for all eternity and never make it to freshman English.

Let the Road Blog-a-logue begin:

June 16, 2011
Hard to believe I'm leaving for Arkansas day after tomorrow. Somehow that trip snuck up on me, but in a nice way. Never mind that I've had to run around like a whirling Tazmanian Devil, getting my cases lined up to be handled by my coworkers. And in the middle of all that, I found myself making a much needed side trip to the Kissimmee Police Department to finally file the police report of the identity theft. I have to say something nice about the officer who handled my case. Both times I spoke with her, she was incredibly helpful and pleasant. UPDATE: Hard to believe I never finished that blog post, and here it is Saturday, June 18, and we are gassing up in Valdosta, having picked up some much-needed caffeine at Starbucks. We've been stopping at this Starbucks for a number of years, and this is the first time one of the baristas was less than pleasing. Boy, if you are reading this, you are bound for a very short career. Starbucks has standards, and you do not even come close.

I have been knitting the Antimony shawl since leaving home. It was a pain to start the center piece, but not as difficult as I anticipated the start would have been if I had gone straight to the Vortex shawl. Now that I am past the center and working on my size 8 rosewood circular needles that I picked up at like 75% off at Joann's, all is well in the world of knitting. Will I finish it before our return home? Only if I stop blogging and start knitting . . .

Today's ear worms brought to you courtesy of Queen, ABBA, and Johnny Hates Hollywood. My head is a mess from all this unsolicited musical claptrap.

I am at the point that the Antimony shawl is resembling the Antimony floppy beret, if there was such a thing. Which means I cannot put the knitting on the bed. The bad luck hat fairies may not realize that it is a very young shawl-in-training and all hat-hell may break loose. I'm sure you can see why I can't take a chance. You can, can't you?

An Ode to Mandy
Mandy is my GPS, and today she more than earned her keep. If you have ever driven to Atlanta, you've likely gotten stuck in traffic along Interstate 75. This time, we got stuck in a traffic jam that was backed up all the way to Macon. Mandy, recognizing that we were delayed, asked if we wanted to try an alternate route. What a Smartgirl! Following her lead, we got out of the mess and made it to our hotel area with time to spare, which meant getting to Thompson Brothers before they closed.

That barbecue was soooooo good, I would have kissed the Brother in charge, if we hadn't taken the food out. I ordered some ribs, Rob ordered the Whole Nine Yards, and we had a small feast back in our room. I personally think the Brothers do the best job of smoking of all the 'cue places we frequent.

June 19, 2011

On the road to Sevierville, Tennessee. Such a beautiful state, I can understand Al Gore growing up to be an unabashed tree hugger.

I made considerable progress on Antimony yesterday. Will eventually post pictures.

Our hotel in Sevierville is next to the largest Bass Pro Shop I have ever seen. So big that it has a casual restaurant in it, and that is where we stopped for lunch. Not bad . . . When the waitress brought out their version of BBQ chicken nachos, served over fresh thick cut potato chips, I thought we were going to have to ask for a separate zip code in which to place the platter. Huge doesn't adequately describe it. Maybe that's why the word ginormous was created. It was ginormous.

The traveling has caught up to us both. There will be leftovers for dinner as we collapse on the bed, barely keeping our eyes open long enough to watch the Next Food Network Star.

         

Shark jumping the diners at Bass Pro Shop, and ginormous food

Okay, Allison will not be the Next Food Network Star. The one time she didn't cry on camera. Weepy thing was getting on my nerves. Now they need to get rid of Penny and Chris. Are these people told to act obnoxious?

Billboard Birds and other natural wonders

Driving home Friday on Orange Blossom Trail, I could not miss that big, honking billboard of Dan Newlin's ginormous forehead, on which were perched four perfectly stil, evenly spacedl birds.

Dan recently got some dental work done, or at least his billboard did, and now he's got a different, toothier smile that I'm guessing he thinks gives him a friendlier, more sincere look, since this one looks like he is sneering at all the drivers on the road.  I would have to say that of all the attorneys advertising on television, he irritates me the most with his smarmy "I'd be proud to represent you" crap.  I have never been a fan of television advertising for lawyers, because it cheapens a profession that takes enough pot shots as is.  And as to that "former sheriff's detective" thing he likes to flaunt? Can someone tell me what the hell that has to do with his present occupation as ambulance chaser personal injury attorney?

Rob and I hit the road again today, first stop Atlanta, then on to eastern Tennessee.  This might be a good time to invest in Kleenex, as Vickie and I are planning a good cry when we see each other.

This past week has been a whirlwind of readying my cases for my absence - feels like deja vu all other again.  The Antimony shawl is on the needles and is the designated project for this road trip.  Let's see if I can finish it by the time we return to Florida.  Just in case, I'll be shlepping a few other projects with me.  Hey, it doesn't hurt to be prepared.

Mandy has been updated with all the latest maps, after spending several hours plugged in to Rob's computer.  Knowing her delicate nature, I only hope she isn't constipated from the experience.  She can get awfully cranky when she's not feeling up to par ...

If any of you are acquainted with Master Fidel Casco, don't forget to send him your good wishes for his successful testing in Little Rock.  Seventh degree black belt, Sir!  And of course, some of those good wishes for Rob, who is competing for World Champion on Friday, and in his regular group on Sunday.

Knit Happens

If I was a less experienced knitter, I would be tearing my hair out right about now.  But a lesson well-learned over the past almost 50 years is that "knit happens."

Now I'm no mathematical genius, but I do know that a hexagon has six points, like the Star of David, and six sides.  Therefore, if the object I am knitting is designed to be a hexagon, but instead resembles an air shot of the headquarters for the United States Department of Defense, then I can only conclude that "knit happened", and I am going to have to frog the whole darn thing.

The good news is, nobody died and it gives me something to blog about.  The bad news is ... well, there is no bad news.  I am a process knitter, so having to frog and start over is just part of the process.  I had only gotten as far as round seven, just enough to consider it practice rather than failure.  UPDATE:  I frogged it (rip it, rip it), and started over.  Looking good, if I say so myself.

There ain't no such thing as a free lunch, but there sure is such a thing as a free book.  Me lurves Kindle.  Yes, some of the books are overpriced, especially when they are just released, but I can wait for those prices to come down out of the stratosphere while I am reading stuff I got for free or darn close to free.  Who knew there were so many good mystery writers out there?  It is an embarrassment of riches is what it is.  So many great books, so little time.

I will have a little more time to read as we are off on our road trip starting this Saturday morning.  Next time I schedule two vacations that close together, someone smack me upside the head.  Having said that, I am looking forward to Worlds as I always do.  I love the road trip and love the time we spend in Arkansas.  I am excited about seeing Vickie and Family this trip, and exploring parts of her home state I'd not seen before.

But right now I've got to move it along and get to the office.  Miles to go before I sleep ...

The bigger they are, the harder they fall

Living in Florida, I was hardly the only person to root for Dallas instead of Miami in the NBA Playoffs.  You might think that once my beloved Magic fell on their asses faces in the early rounds, I would turn to the Miami Heat.  You know, Go Florida?  Ha ha ha, no way.

So I was extremely pleased when the Dallas Mavericks won the finals, 4 - 2, embarrassing the crap out of Lebron James.  His ego is going to need major surgery after tonight.  Lebron, Dwyane - while you were mocking Dirk Nowitzki, he and his team were cleaning your clocks.  You boys could use a little humility and a little common sense. 

Speaking of common sense, I don't have any.

The pattern is "Antimony" by Brigitte Eaton, available for free at Ravelry.  She says she combined the "Vortex Shawl" pattern with the "Sagrantino Shawl" pattern to create "Antimony".  I've already got it on the circular needle.  I'm blaming my lapse in judgment on the Yarn Harlot, and her post called "Matching".  If you read it, you'll understand why I feel the need to start this to accompany me on my annual journey.  I already had the perfect (I hope!) yarn, just needed one more skein and I found it, same dye lot and all, at Joann's.

It's not like I'm going to leave for Little Rock with just one project in my knitting bag ... that would be tempting fate, and I could end up like I did in Korea, leaving fuzzy red yarn in three different cities.  Long story.

I made Jewish sweet and sour meatballs tonight.  Tasty!

Harold Camping, who has rescheduled Armageddon for October 21, 2011, has apparently suffered a stroke.  From the news article I read, it did not seem to have been crippling, which is fortunate at his age.  I'm sure he would not want to miss the End of the World.

This is the way the cruise ends, not with a whimper, but with a blast

I am deeply immersed in planning our road trip to Arkansas.  Surely, in another life I was a travel agent.  This is something I do every year, and thanks to the internet, I have built a nice database of hotels, restaurants and things to do in cities along the way.  Although Mandy will be accompanying us as always, I still map out the entire route ahead of time using Mapquest or Google Maps.  That way I know how long each leg of the trip will take, and what time we can expect to arrive.  It also lets me plan for meals, on the road (can't miss the Varsity in Atlanta or the Jack in the Box in Nashville) and near the hotels.  And then, thanks to Open Table, I can make reservations for dinner without having to pick up the telephone.  You know how I hate to talk on the telephone.

Cookie A's "Eunice" socks, from her book Sock Innovations

At the back of my mind, always, is which knitting projects to bring.  Since finishing the baby hoodie and the cat's paw scarf on the cruise, I have been working on the spiral galaxy socks and designing a little blanket to go with the hoodie.  If I'm smart, I'll stick with those, and then move on to the other socks I've got started.  No reason why I shouldn't be able to finish the Eunice socks, since I am already on the second sock ... no reason at all, except that out of the corner of my eye I can see sitting at the top of the growing stack of travel documents, the pattern for this little beauty:

"Vortex Shawl" by Kristina McCurley, free pattern on Ravelry

The only thing that is stopping me from casting on is that I do not have 840 yards of fingering weight yarn in any one colorway.  Of course, that is easily correctible, and without my even having to leave this chair (God, I love the internet).  I keep debating the wisdom of such a move, however, although if I could possibly start and finish the project during the trip, that would be awesome.  Foolhardy, but awesome.  A single, beautiful project representing our journey to the Great Smokies and the Ozarks and back to the flatlands of Central Florida.  A "fractal inspired shawl" to remind us of our visit with very dear friends, of watching Master Casco test for seventh-degree blackbelt, and of Rob's participating at Worlds in the Top Ten competition.  A gloriously symbolic shawl. 

In the meantime, I have prepared a choucroute garnie which I recommend highly.  It feeds about 400 people, however, or maybe that's twelve; in any event, plan on serving it when you are throwing a party, or contributing to a potluck when you really really really like the people.

And now, our last day on the cruise - designated a "Fun Day at Sea" (everything on Carnival is about fun), and it was.  No, really, it was.  Keep reading.

June 3, 2011 - 10:39 am

The Last Breakfast

I haven't gushed yet about my iPad; that will come later. Here we are on the Lido Deck, in the casual dining room known as "The Gathering", watching the last breakfast feeding frenzy of the cruise. Today is designated as a Fun Day at Sea, as there are no planned port stops until our final destination of Port Canaveral. I really liked the schedule for this cruise, which both started and ended with a full sailing day.

In fact, there is very little that I did not like about this cruise. The Baked Alaska was a disappointment. And the selection of TV channels was sparse. At least half the adults have no freaking idea of how to dress, but I really can't complain, as that gives me a rich source of Fashion Police commentary. I would have liked some reasonable access to cellphone and Internet service, but there is a big part of me that is very glad I have been, in the words of my dear departed great-Aunt Ceil, incognito. It is true that I don't have easy access to my personal accounts, but that also means I have absolutely no access to my office accounts. The State of Florida BlackBerry is tucked away safely at home.

    

Such a pretty ship ...

I can go on and on about the good stuff, though, but that will come later as well. This morning we finished our onboard shopping, listened to Butch, Your Cruise Director's explanation of debarkation procedures, and planned our lunch at a different location, the Lanai for bar-b-que. I also would like to peek in at something called Tea Time at 3:00, and Rob has been wanting to check out the sushi at Wasabi. Good grief, it really is all about the food with us. Oh yeah, I bought two cookbooks.

Lunch at the Lanai on the Promenade deck

The Lanai had chicken quesadillas, soft pork tacos, hot dogs and sliders, and a nice place to sit out on the Promenade deck, away from the much noisier swimming pools. Rob had a rum and coke, and after lunch, a nice walk on the deck, and more photos of white caps, I got a moccachino at Carnival's version of Starbucks, and it is very good. According to the charts, the Carnival Dream is sailing at a pretty brisk pace heading northeast around the Florida Keys. We still have couple of meals to go before this truly lovely cruise ends.

Fashion Police reporting in to bitch about hair braiding. When the ship made it's last stop at Costa Maya, there were ladies waiting on land, and also a number of shops, offering hair braiding. Unfortunately, a number of white ladies have indulged in this particular hair styling with less than stellar results. Not because of the quality of the work, which has been rather good, but because it is, in my opinion, a look that simply doesn't work with Caucasian hair and scalps. It was especially unattractive on a frowsy, colorless white lady of indeterminate age who would have been better served by a visit to the ship's beauty salon for a good cut, color, and style which would have softened her looks. The braiding and beading created a harsh effect. Very high on the ick factor scale, accompanied as it was by a completely unfashionable granny type dress which had probably seen better days back in the sixties.

I am watching the afternoon proceeding of the Casey Anthony trial in real time, which is now serving as an uncomfortable reminder that I have two termination of parental rights trials starting this week. One of them is straightforward and rather sad, while the other is, for want of a better descriptive word, a doozy. And that's all I am going to say about that.

The Tea Cart

4:05 pm

From the "oh darn, why didn't I check that out sooner?" department: I have always wanted to go to an afternoon tea, but have yet to find a satisfactory venue. So I have been on this lovely ship for six days, and looked at the schedule every day, and noted that there is something called Tea Time from 3:00 to 4:00 pm. We finally did check it out and it was so pleasant and so relaxing I feel like a dummy for not looking into it sooner. Choice of teas, of course, and a rolling cart with six or seven sweet offerings and two savory. I had a scone which had been split and filled with a delicious cream and a cup of Darjeeling while Rob had the apple tart, the open faced smoked salmon sandwich, with a cup of Earl Grey. It was peaceful and delicious, a nice combination.

Afternoon tea, a lovely experience

More in this department - the daily sushi bar, open from about 5:30 to 8:15 pm. Now, are you sitting down? The sushi is FREE. I thought it was one of those extras you pay for, like the moccachino or liquor. Seemed reasonable to me anyway, since almost everything else is included, but we get down here and get on line, and these very cheerful men behind the counter are shoving plates filled with three different types of delicious sushi at each of the guests and no one is paying for anything.

6:49 pm

Well, we've got one more big meal to go - the last supper at 8:15 - and our vacation is over. We will debark around 8:45 am tomorrow. I will be avoiding the scale for a while.

It has been a blast.

Speaking of blasts, if anyone saw the season finale of "Doctor Who" last night on BBC America - were you blown away?