tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85693712024-03-23T11:07:41.364-07:00Pacific GritsBetter with butter and a little saltJameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.comBlogger358125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-48253399904554464642011-06-19T06:07:00.000-07:002011-06-19T06:33:30.015-07:00Father's Day - A Brief History<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3kGO2HIUEPfIpzAxmVQ-AOS9Nt_LtnOx-SA-r6s1sRDlJ1sf1P2VzTxfCAZ8zoHQiYv_EdrB7NBvprlAylLMwNvDZwWdiHKErwjycMOPAq-Z7KYRuVW4COWZgxa2OFTw96IVs3Q/s1600/Old+Grill.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 288px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619920117689576978" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3kGO2HIUEPfIpzAxmVQ-AOS9Nt_LtnOx-SA-r6s1sRDlJ1sf1P2VzTxfCAZ8zoHQiYv_EdrB7NBvprlAylLMwNvDZwWdiHKErwjycMOPAq-Z7KYRuVW4COWZgxa2OFTw96IVs3Q/s320/Old+Grill.jpg" /></a><br /><br />With Father's Day upon us it is important for fathers to remember how we, as an inferior societal subculture to mothers, got where we are. After all, Father's Day did not get off the ground until well after Mother's Day was established in the United States.<br /><br /><br /><br />Father's Day <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">unofficially</span> began in 1922 by a group of men in Topeka, Kansas, fathers all, who desperately needed a new grill. Such an unlikely scenario, conceived over a jug of hooch, actually worked, and the very grill is still in use today by the grandson of one of the Father's Day founding fathers, though it is in a state of serious disrepair.<br /><br />The Father's Day concept spread across the mid-West and finally became a loosely adopted holiday across most of the U.S., as men everywhere were clamoring for an excuse to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">upgrade</span> their barbecues annually.<br /><br />During the 1950s Father's Day, still not a national holiday, was hijacked by the tie industry, and for more than 40 years the necktie reigned supreme as the go-to Father's Day gifts until, thanks to discount retailers such as <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Wal</span>-Mart and Fred Meyer, grills <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">began</span> making a comeback in the mid-1990's.<br /><br />Father's Day became official in 1972, with a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">proclamation</span> by President Richard Nixon, who during his re-election campaign promised "a grill in every garage." Though Father's Day became official, the promise was twisted by savvy retailers who advertised in the Sunday supplements "a tie around every neck."Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-57340695499195028392011-06-15T18:24:00.000-07:002011-06-15T18:29:28.725-07:00CoachI don’t fly much anymore. In fact, until last week it’s been almost two years. I don’t have anywhere to go anymore.<br /><br />Back when I kept a carry-on bag perpetually packed I would complain about airport parking, flight delays, gate changes and receiving too few mushrooms with my steak and potatoes. I realize now how petty my complaints were. Petty, I know. Petty.<br /><br />Last week my complaint had less to do with the airlines and the TSA and more to do with no longer enjoying platinum status. I was forbidden to use the platinum screening lane at SeaTac. I was unable to board early. There was no first class upgrade waiting for me at the gate. No one offered to take my jacket upon boarding. During the flight I had a small cup of juice and the tiniest pack of peanuts imaginable, and I had to wait a long time for it. I had a tiny square napkin instead of a hot towel and lemon water.<br /><br />In a previous career when someone made a huge mistake (like cutting a live fiber optic cable by mistake), instead of harsh disciplinary measures the mistake-maker was required to write a “lessons learned” report and share it with the team.<br /><br />Here is my Lesson Learned: complaints are relative. Navigate the small speedbumps with patience and a smile. Those things which I complain about today might be insignificant in another set of circumstances.Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-18096981409214416912011-05-10T18:01:00.000-07:002011-05-10T18:09:23.364-07:00A Reply<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVvOwUhMndj4o5EF3-T05t1lEwqq1Wuz37Nbf4JjpBm4DwRuhpm27LudL2OnvTpCSaA0eomY4gJ_rnRXJdz8E2EyUkgk-ZtwiN3B0SiVSrj3Mh1KFHpFuGK53-op_qy2_QFkmF-A/s1600/Chicken.bmp"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 285px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605258998215257714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVvOwUhMndj4o5EF3-T05t1lEwqq1Wuz37Nbf4JjpBm4DwRuhpm27LudL2OnvTpCSaA0eomY4gJ_rnRXJdz8E2EyUkgk-ZtwiN3B0SiVSrj3Mh1KFHpFuGK53-op_qy2_QFkmF-A/s320/Chicken.bmp" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-uOgVNSIxN4IjExx6AqdH27RMzI-yl8mYpJqBxoBru2IG1CvyRZJwNLiC8Gpm_IqqfdzR9TNFvYjgeV4j-mp5fOpoSUjAxYTkKd4ZyIUB1eYwNCqgzaQZlotMHPUh1AJ4Ljd7A/s1600/Chicken.bmp"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">A reply to an email query for 150 take-out grilled chicken salads:<br /><br /></span></strong>We provide a very exclusive product marketed to the upper classes, so I want to make sure you are aware of the quality of what we do. We cater only to the highest, most specialized palates.<br /><br />We raise our own chickens at our Lake Pontarayne poultry farm in Washington State. These are Idaho Gerbers, the Boorman breed with the yellow top feathers and the extra toe, free range chickens known for their succulent taste, exceptional texture and superior fighting ability. Only three farms in the United States raise the Idaho Boorman Gerbers. The other two are currently under investigation by the US Department of Agriculture.<br /><br />Each hen is cold-shocked, de-beaked and then hand-processed (we do not use illegals for our plucking, but only highly trained, college educated pheasantry artisans) and flown express to our local store where each grilled chicken salad plate is prepared to individual expectations and tastes. We have over 300 sauces to choose from, including Bison Berry Thrush and Nuthatch. Only the freshest Guatemalan avocados are used for our smesh, each gently roasted in a lemon curry for 40 minutes before basting in a peppercorn crabgrass marinade, which we pre-prepare with Grandpa Hobson’s #2 Kentucky Barrel Hooch-Flavored Whiskey, aged 18 years.<br /><br />Our hens are charcoal-filtered for impurities before being dismembered and skewered. They are prepared over 800 degree coals in a brick oven custom designed for us by Martinique Boulaurde, the famous French chef and author of “Cooking Goat the Auxerre Way.” (He has a TV show, “I said Cake!” premièring August 13 on the FOOD Network.)<br /><br />Each of our dishes is certified Kosher by Rabbi Ezekiel Daniel Hosea, of the Ark of the Covenant Synagogue in Charleston, West Virginia. A $15 kosher fee is added to the price of every dish. But the peace of mind you get with our Rabbinically approved culinary delights is worth its weight in bublik.<br /><br />We plate our meals on Wodehouse Bone China, a superior plate endorsed by the Duchess of York and the National Basketball Association. This plate is similar to the plates used by President Obama at the White House, except the White House plates do not have a picture of a chicken on them. This is an exact replica of the plate on which Brussels sprouts were served by Jeeves to Bernard Wooster and Roderick Spode, the 7th Earl of Sidcup, at Totleigh Towers before the disaster at Shipley Hall. There is a courtesy deposit of $90 per plate (a $110 value!). Our customers may keep the plate or return it for the deposit. Deposits are issued by check and mailed within 90 days of the return of the Wodehouse Bone China plates, once each is certified to be in good condition. Credit is not provided for plates that are returned, damaged, chipped, drawn on with magic marker or otherwise vandalized or defaced in a manner inconsistent with the product’s manufacturer’s specifications. Questions about Wodehouse Bone China or its subsidiaries, Carl’s Cups & Company and Gunderson’s House of Veal, may be directed to Wodehouse, Consumer Division, Greenwich, England.<br /><br />PRICE PER PERSON<br />Grilled Chicken Salad $69<br />Kosher Fee $15<br />Take-Out Fee $10<br />Plating Fee $6<br />Internet Order Charge $2<br />Deposit on Bone China $90<br />TOTAL PER PERSON $192<br /><br />Please let us know when you are ready to place your order. We will have Rabbi Hosea standing by. </div></div>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-8205912629834715762011-04-19T02:13:00.000-07:002011-04-19T19:13:50.883-07:00A Blast from the Past - 1984<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMmC6xw5-SfjKb0N1MaWqJ_R3m1GRg9JLzBr09NWOiRv0y3DamQz7gK8Rs2VWvOYKc92H4tbElqIf5iPqTaQ6ghnXA7auMvMwKC0EqrploH_Jz6BF0nyIupBjnWEeDdkh7MZNRcg/s1600-h/1984+Car+Buddies.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; FLOAT: left; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258419629554090594" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMmC6xw5-SfjKb0N1MaWqJ_R3m1GRg9JLzBr09NWOiRv0y3DamQz7gK8Rs2VWvOYKc92H4tbElqIf5iPqTaQ6ghnXA7auMvMwKC0EqrploH_Jz6BF0nyIupBjnWEeDdkh7MZNRcg/s400/1984+Car+Buddies.jpg" /></a> Buck, Toast and Jelly.<br /><br />I'd like to imagine these were carefree times. And in many respects they were.<br /><br />But in the moment, here are three guys worried about doing well in school, agonizing over girlfriends, breaking in their drivers licences and imagining how, 27 years hence, life away from parents and school and lame part time jobs will be liberating and free.<br /><br />The guy in the middle sees himself in his early 40's operating something akin to Rick's Cafe American in some exotic locale like Casablanca, chatting with the piano player, bribing local officials and dealing with the occasional ex-girlfriend who walks in the door with her husband and tells the piano player to "Play it, Sam."Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-48473842228340161932011-04-13T12:52:00.000-07:002011-04-19T19:23:24.524-07:00Tidbits<ul><br /><li>I was on my way to Spatula City and stopped in at Pistachio World. It's an amazing store, I am surprised I'd never shopped there before. It's about as big as a Wal-Mart and they have every variety of pistachio. I picked up ten pounds of peppered pistachios and they're awful.</li><br /><br /><li>When making sanwiches at home there is no substitute for homemade mayonnaise. Use a walnut oil to infuse the mayo with a deep and complex flavor, along with fresh egs and lemon juice. And don't keep the mayo more than a couple of weeks in the refrigerator. Unlike store-bought mayo, homemade tends to spoil.</li><br /><br /><li>When making potato salad there is no substitute for real mayonaise. Duke's.</li><br /><br /><li>The episodes featuring Uncle Arthur were among the best of the series. Who wouldn't want an uncle like Uncle Arthur? Bonus points if the episode was one in which Cousin Serena also guest-starred.</li><br /><br /><li>And speaking of television, "Black Adder" was a very funny show. I don't know too many people who have seen it. My 2009 Christmas season was finally complete when BBC America aired the "Black Adder Christmas Carol" on Christmas Eve. Missed it this past Christmas, and I am still not recovered.</li><br /><br /><li>Overheard today while standing in line at the bank: "I need to buy World of Warcraft but there's no money in my account."</li></ul>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-16009823243334622232010-12-28T09:09:00.000-08:002010-12-28T11:26:57.694-08:00Monday Cold with Jeff Bridges and Cocktail Umbrellas<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhynhMn4YVxeyn0Df6329HPNDPEybP6pPGMIVlTKfMLi2sSci1wzNAXoslIENHaiQymrGbCVOA7PqV0gdPp9d5fP3mJmmm7RxdrdcHzYAn1p9iaMX1DOcfHYX0-HI_sO5C3OO6rnQ/s1600/Freshly+Squeezed+2.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 266px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 193px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498251391270823666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhynhMn4YVxeyn0Df6329HPNDPEybP6pPGMIVlTKfMLi2sSci1wzNAXoslIENHaiQymrGbCVOA7PqV0gdPp9d5fP3mJmmm7RxdrdcHzYAn1p9iaMX1DOcfHYX0-HI_sO5C3OO6rnQ/s320/Freshly+Squeezed+2.jpg" /></a> <strong><em>AN UNPUBLISHED POST FROM JULY 26, 2010:</em></strong><br /><strong><em></em></strong><br />It is not uncommon for me to stay up late and rise at 5 AM after four hours sleep. Of course the downside to that practice is the much needed evening nap of an hour or so.<br /><br />When I try and go for a good eight hours rest, like last night, I am up and wide awake by 3 AM. All I can do is watch TV. As I dislike most TV, I seek out a movie to watch.<br /><br />This morning, in addition to being wide awake at 0300, I found myself suffering a terrible cough and head cold. I ventured into the living room where I could sit up, which helped the cough, and turned on the TV. Do you remember back when we all thought <em>TRON</em> was cutting edge movie technology? And remember hanging out at the arcade with a pocket full of quarters, how cool that was? I had not seen the movie in maybe twenty years, around the last time I walked into an video game arcade with a pocketful of quarters. On viewing it at 4 AM this morning, <em>TRON</em> did not seem as cool and cutting edge as it had in 1982. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFmKKIJyFD8Op5vKFCVzuBgz_hIbJatHlUlC1gE2xT5YaDvPbzSyp3BUAJqipaz-Tsydi4767T9NW-A1gAKAS0jNp4A0ujxbgsKGF1otMIc4KQt3vY1pvXqcLExEZy8xFOb_cwvg/s1600/Tron.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 242px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498254071804088354" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFmKKIJyFD8Op5vKFCVzuBgz_hIbJatHlUlC1gE2xT5YaDvPbzSyp3BUAJqipaz-Tsydi4767T9NW-A1gAKAS0jNp4A0ujxbgsKGF1otMIc4KQt3vY1pvXqcLExEZy8xFOb_cwvg/s320/Tron.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Now they are bringing back Jeff Bridges and the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Troncycles</span> for a sequel. I was thinking about this around 6:30 this morning, when I went back to bed, my stomach full of expectorants and decongestants.<br /><br />I awoke later that usual and dragged myself to the breakfast table. My daughter, who had squeezed a pitcher of fresh OJ this morning from ten pounds of oranges, took notice of my cold and prepared for me the juice from half a grapefruit, freshly squeezed and poured up in a shot glass with a paper umbrella.<br /><br /><strong><em>UPDATE, DECEMBER 28, 2010:</em></strong><br /><br />I am pleased to report that my cold is gone, and that I have seen <em>Tron: Legacy</em>, and found it better than the original.Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-72355296205965871112010-09-15T20:25:00.000-07:002010-09-15T20:52:48.835-07:00Goodbye Old Friend<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLLP8CVBP7e_NW7ofwAkMPGnZp-XU2-N9h1PzcK1_C0C7VJAFCK9_SNxrFYxua5HjWtMgKo9dmjvla14ilYteEnDpI3dvHdeCtm4oRb4yZ6PI-uBAoE79FB86OKsG4_2IGRS6BiA/s1600/Harper+with+Mustang.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517348899605437810" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLLP8CVBP7e_NW7ofwAkMPGnZp-XU2-N9h1PzcK1_C0C7VJAFCK9_SNxrFYxua5HjWtMgKo9dmjvla14ilYteEnDpI3dvHdeCtm4oRb4yZ6PI-uBAoE79FB86OKsG4_2IGRS6BiA/s400/Harper+with+Mustang.JPG" /></a> I said goodbye to my friend the other day. Strange how attached we become to our cars, particularly those that have been good to us, that have provided us with memories.<br /><br />Several years ago we moved out of the city and bought a house in the burbs to raise our child. We were moving out when it occurred to me that I would have no way to get to work, as I had for several years enjoyed walking to work in downtown Seattle every day. My neighbor told me that he had just gotten a company car and was selling his little Geo, so I bought it for cash and his wife and I went down to the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">DMV</span> and transferred the title. I drove that little green car until it would drive no more, rolling to a stop at my mechanic’s for the last time. Walt told me how many thousands of dollars it would cost me to get the Geo back on the road, when the blue book value was about $800. Next door, at the Ford dealership, a blue Mustang caught my eye. It had been ordered by someone whose financing fell through, and I bought it.<br /><br />I tried to hide it from my wife, but that <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">didn</span>’t last long. I was in my driveway with my friend Matt when my wife came out and said, “Whose car is this?”<br /><br />Shortly thereafter I got the Tahoe, which I drove to work every day. The Mustang stayed in the garage until the weekends. On Saturdays I would take her out and drive her around while I ran errands. I’d wash her and drive her to my standing Saturday night movie date with Mike.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbgeb0R6ZQxz68uBNGFaZsx4mOJwqduR-dZBXQncqqJt64uOrMn3zRg2Iw0UTwV5IhH4V7kyRcJ18trZF-7mCeYmXwuhy3v1gwLbt5v_CBGJwHJV_VueiJf_W5hlPLk4WP9axUtA/s1600/47+Pacific+Sunset+7.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 236px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 187px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517350234583172498" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbgeb0R6ZQxz68uBNGFaZsx4mOJwqduR-dZBXQncqqJt64uOrMn3zRg2Iw0UTwV5IhH4V7kyRcJ18trZF-7mCeYmXwuhy3v1gwLbt5v_CBGJwHJV_VueiJf_W5hlPLk4WP9axUtA/s320/47+Pacific+Sunset+7.JPG" /></a><br />Last summer Mike and I took the Mustang on a 4,000 mile road trip down the Pacific coast, across the desert to Texas, and around the Gulf of Mexico before heading north to South Carolina. I opened her up on the Pacific Coast Highway between San Francisco and Los Angeles, and she handled like a dream. It was the best driving experience of my life, one I would heartily recommend.<br /><br />Last Friday I began to cross an intersection near my home on a green light. I saw a truck barreling towards me and stopped my car, but he was going too fast to stop, and never braked. The 62-year-old driver of a purple Ford F-150 ran a red light going about 50 miles per hour in a 35 zone and plowed into the driver’s side of the Mustang before losing control, leaving the road, crossing the sidewalk through the landscaping of a shopping center before crashing into a tree. The force of the impact spun my car around and propelled me in the same direction he was travelling. I came to a stop 40 feet away.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_2ag-t9XGAMS9CV-LqazLvK2kq5KZX3JpBbsG8zxEK3pNgkFqWxrVnzrYxdhOwKAreahmeLX0jtIxu0fUILHZeocC-ml9aWqRlGu8IlavoyXG2HvaRrK4h7kcR6hWyGFi0T-MPg/s1600/the+blue+stallion+no+more.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 406px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 332px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517349259145456290" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_2ag-t9XGAMS9CV-LqazLvK2kq5KZX3JpBbsG8zxEK3pNgkFqWxrVnzrYxdhOwKAreahmeLX0jtIxu0fUILHZeocC-ml9aWqRlGu8IlavoyXG2HvaRrK4h7kcR6hWyGFi0T-MPg/s400/the+blue+stallion+no+more.jpg" /></a><br />I recall dialing 911 on my cell phone and pressing SEND, but never lifted the phone to my ear. Debris was everywhere. Despite a sore leg and hip, I was able to get out of my vehicle. I could see that the driver of the Ford truck was slumped over his steering wheel, immobile. I would leave his fate to others. The next few minutes are a blank, but then there were three police cars and an ambulance parked nearby. The EMT, I recall, was most annoying. I wanted him to go away. There was no way I was going anywhere in an ambulance. I was worried about my car.<br /><br />The Mustang was bleeding heavily. There was radiator fluid everywhere. I picked up the grill off the street. The hood was hanging against the passenger side door. I noticed that the frame was bent about 30 degrees. There will be no repairing her. <div></div><br /><div>The real tragedy is this: I found out the gentleman who hit me has passed away. I thank God that I am walking and breathing right now. My prayers and sympathies are with his family.<br /><br />I had some great times in that car, many with my daughter, who patted me Friday afternoon and offered sympathy as only a child can. “You’ll get another car, Daddy, but I don’t think you’d like a truck. Maybe another green car like you had before.”<br /><br />If anyone has a 1996 Geo Prism for sale, let me know. I'm buying.</div>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-74429566734871877752010-07-03T20:27:00.000-07:002010-07-03T22:31:56.932-07:00Celebrating the Fourth<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5tpA8SjbcZD0uFO0Vmv34XZpF-dAI59oQ6Vb9N7tQdark-vV8cRFu0NsXafTLC0AKybNGeldtPZRSJdZE5lpveLJoXLV8yPNq_11FG-OE41q8HAmMx0Y4_RoJI-GS6Wx12o_FLw/s1600/Ribs+o+Plenty.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 151px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 109px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489900584162876882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5tpA8SjbcZD0uFO0Vmv34XZpF-dAI59oQ6Vb9N7tQdark-vV8cRFu0NsXafTLC0AKybNGeldtPZRSJdZE5lpveLJoXLV8yPNq_11FG-OE41q8HAmMx0Y4_RoJI-GS6Wx12o_FLw/s200/Ribs+o+Plenty.jpg" /></a>Independence Day for many means a day of independence from work. The coffee bar where I work is closed tomorrow, so I will be enjoying Independence Day as I have for many years: with my family.<br /><br /><div></div><div>About seven years ago I started preparing beef ribs for the Fourth of July using a recipe I found in Esquire magazine, and another July 3 has rolled around and I am dug in yet again for the long haul. Each r<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8XJ4SO6JRlWyomj7Qhu4h7CMo8NdECo_3Q_0xlfOW5sM8mADe6evfX7xsJ7Fyn55O4_QzUAH4L4IZct2WkGdmUrDvy3lkfTqO_PjFhRoT1NPvauCJicBw8AvUMLrWR-gOyc0o-A/s1600/Ribs+Basting.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489900165007799490" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8XJ4SO6JRlWyomj7Qhu4h7CMo8NdECo_3Q_0xlfOW5sM8mADe6evfX7xsJ7Fyn55O4_QzUAH4L4IZct2WkGdmUrDvy3lkfTqO_PjFhRoT1NPvauCJicBw8AvUMLrWR-gOyc0o-A/s320/Ribs+Basting.jpg" /></a>ib goes through a a process that takes about 4-5 hours before it hits the grill in order to be flavorful and fully tender. I expect to remove the last batch of ribs from their bath in the roasting pan around 4:30 in the morning. More or less par for the course. <br /><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div>I always enjoy having ribs and corn on the cobb on the 4th, partially because my daughter loves both, and it's always a pleasure to prepare the meal for her. This year, however, there will be no cherry cobbler for dessert. I left my cherry trees behind in Seattle, so I have no freshly picked cherries. This year we'll adopt a Southern tradition and add peach ice cream into the mix.</div><div></div><div></div><div><br />This year I'll get to celebrate the holiday with the extended family, which I've not been able to do in years past. It should be a lot of fun. Oh, and I assume there will be a couple of episodes of "The Twilight Zone" tomorrow as well. </div>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-78928112022346417492010-07-02T19:52:00.000-07:002010-07-03T22:59:07.126-07:00National Champs<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw9HP5G1tDzKFkIPMtFEyelYQ2BrRS8EQOpvcE21OuKW7_LvCXPoOUfxVH-IH9R6Xysb4lCK0Imt0tchTAckZUoTvwWeVTbJ43z-7hNtAdTsWQ7y-KIROYHNKuNMrCnmpmmaxRNQ/s1600/USC+Parade+State+House.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 216px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489926401865805474" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw9HP5G1tDzKFkIPMtFEyelYQ2BrRS8EQOpvcE21OuKW7_LvCXPoOUfxVH-IH9R6Xysb4lCK0Imt0tchTAckZUoTvwWeVTbJ43z-7hNtAdTsWQ7y-KIROYHNKuNMrCnmpmmaxRNQ/s400/USC+Parade+State+House.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Celebrating the College World Series champions at the South Carolina capitol building with my daughter, the Hill Company and 40,000 others.</div>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-45871099152368809982010-06-05T15:30:00.000-07:002010-06-05T15:44:11.301-07:00A Man of Action (Verbs)As great hope and change continues to wash over our country (not unlike the torrential rains we have experienced these past few days), I decided today to peruse my box of President Obama clippings and tally up the hope and count the change. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR4p1LxJWzxjHWOKKyFFpWun9h7TcmMPWPEWYcr9MKKuRDwpwkQkK9Ehm8EKYH2Tjp5FpPaQ2Rk5gXsS7kshJ2p56WMrA1GAO6LsQYH0NNmQIWJiAP-Sa639CR1r-WeZUz9X2WpA/s1600/Obama+Lashing.jpg"><strong><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 307px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 344px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479421021641335858" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR4p1LxJWzxjHWOKKyFFpWun9h7TcmMPWPEWYcr9MKKuRDwpwkQkK9Ehm8EKYH2Tjp5FpPaQ2Rk5gXsS7kshJ2p56WMrA1GAO6LsQYH0NNmQIWJiAP-Sa639CR1r-WeZUz9X2WpA/s400/Obama+Lashing.jpg" /></strong></a><br /><br />While leafing through the clippings what struck me as profound were the headlines themselves, more specifically the action verbs used in headline after headline following the name “Obama.” As agent of change the President must also be a man of action, and I hoped to make a list of these action verbs as a way of gauging the man’s personality and as a summation of the man’s accomplishments while thus far serving in office.<br /><br />Here are the headlines, arranged alphabetically. I have included only subject, verb and object, dropping prepositional phrases and contextual references. Read into them what you will, though each is an actual headline.<br /><br /><strong>Obama… </strong><br /><br />Accused Republicans<br />Angry at Energy Department<br />Angry at Fox<br />Angry at Netanyahu<br />Fires Back at Cheney<br />Goes Nuclear Over Sarah Palin<br />Lashes Out at AIG<br />Lashes Out at Arizona<br />Lashes Out at “Audacity of Banks”<br />Lashes Out at Banks<br />Lashes Out at “Big Media”<br />Lashes Out at BP<br />Lashes Out at CNBC<br />Lashes Out at “Fat Cat Bankers”<br />Lashes Out at Fox News<br />Lashes Out at Generals in Afghanistan<br />Lashes Out at GOP<br />Lashes Out at Haliburton<br />Lashes Out at Health Care Bill Opponents<br />Lashes Out at Health Insurers<br />Lashes Out at Hilary<br />Lashes Out at Honduras<br />Lashes Out at House Republicans<br />Lashes Out at iPods<br />Lashes Out at Iran<br />Lashes Out at Kanye West<br />Lashes Out at Lawmakers<br />Lashes Out at McCain<br />Lashes Out at New Media<br />Lashes Out at Oil Drillers<br />Lashes Out at Oil Industry<br />Lashes Out at Oil Company executives<br />Lashes Out at Opposing Viewpoints<br />Lashes Out at Republicans<br />Lashes Out at Sarah Palin<br />Lashes Out at The New Yorker<br />Lashes Out at US Banks<br />Lashes Out at Wall Street<br />Lashes Out During Golf Trip<br />Lashes Out Over “Cash for Clunkers” Analysis<br />Mocks Arizona Law<br />Mocks Bush<br />Mocks Cable Chatter<br />Mocks Cheney<br />Mocks Conservatives<br />Mocks D.C.’s Reaction to Winter Weather<br />Mocks Disabled Children<br />Mocks Entrepreneurship<br />Mocks Fox<br />Mocks GOP<br />Mocks GOP Doomsday Predictions<br />Mocks Health Care Bill Opponents<br />Mocks Leno<br />Mocks Limbaugh<br />Mocks Marijuana Question<br />Mocks McCain<br />Mocks McConnell<br />Mocks Media<br />Mocks Opponents<br />Mocks Palin<br />Mocks Patrick Henry<br />Mocks Plumbers<br />Mocks Presidential Seal<br />Mocks Private Insurance Companies<br />Mocks Rallies<br />Mocks Republicans<br />Mocks Scott Brown’s Truck<br />Mocks Special Olympics<br />Mocks Teabaggers<br />Mocks Tea Partiers<br />Mocks the Bible<br />Mocks the Handicapped<br />Mocks the iPad<br />Mocks US Military Personnel<br />Scolds Republicans<br />Struggles with Smoking Habit<br />Unleashes Frustration<br /><br />Indeed, the President has not been sitting on his laurels. Between the lashing and mocking, he’s had time for unleashing and scolding, and was able (with justification, no doubt) to accuse a Republican or two.<br /><br />We’ll check in again at mid-term elections. There’s bound to be some additional lashing come November.Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-53913900123178387202010-03-24T06:28:00.001-07:002010-03-24T06:31:02.374-07:00Pills<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6bJHHayGVdzAaBLVTwurIXRXuH5UOZsWJPCpQv4zCXcIOI1gA1K2RktAGq1bHInJz4-XWUYMmKb0qHEXrEeJHo1fj0PFwHAbpnSe85uWNa7TejIEcBSr-YdOlx-4ajaQHxjWBMg/s1600/J+and+Pils.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452192296806433170" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6bJHHayGVdzAaBLVTwurIXRXuH5UOZsWJPCpQv4zCXcIOI1gA1K2RktAGq1bHInJz4-XWUYMmKb0qHEXrEeJHo1fj0PFwHAbpnSe85uWNa7TejIEcBSr-YdOlx-4ajaQHxjWBMg/s400/J+and+Pils.JPG" /></a><br /><div>At a recent food show I had the privilege to meet someone who has been part of my life since I was a child: Poppinfresh, the Pillsbury Dough Boy, whom I affectionately refer to as “Pills.”<br /><br />Pills is a pastry chef of the highest order. His biscuits are flakey, his cookies perfectly sweet, and his baked Alaska – wow!<br /><br />Although we could not reach an arrangement for Pills to bake goodies for me at the coffee bar, we parted friends. He will always have a place in my heart. And yes, when you poke him in the stomach he does emit a high, squeak-like laugh. </div>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-14276956840996994832010-03-06T05:36:00.000-08:002010-03-06T18:54:18.840-08:00The Promises of Hope and Change<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAkzR5ex5HBMHna3wipExa6E1VLGIrfnu-T8EmpSZdICmn_aNH_4E4egx-6W4gSpO2I_opu8MithFtAv6nOEm9y41PGRFkD6meqZIO84-Auynwj8DUuEyJXYtNDzuKdRPy6NUrJA/s1600-h/President+Obama.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 274px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445520437476070610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAkzR5ex5HBMHna3wipExa6E1VLGIrfnu-T8EmpSZdICmn_aNH_4E4egx-6W4gSpO2I_opu8MithFtAv6nOEm9y41PGRFkD6meqZIO84-Auynwj8DUuEyJXYtNDzuKdRPy6NUrJA/s400/President+Obama.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpCxrTw1Y-dVvQTWhWFg0FzrPSQw7W8xDea5vJlYQNjI2yepXZKJPxEYBxr4bCkO3-3rtsMzNdW7DP4XdkEqezpXEwIU_IoPFvMvQC98lUz4mgfxKZd1gIJPs5mb65RvpDaNxiQg/s1600-h/President+Obama.jpg"></a><div align="left">It’s been more than a year since the nation kicked George Bush out of office, so I spent some time looking back at campaign interviews and speeches and thought I’d take a moment to celebrate the promises of hope and change that have come to pass.<br /><br /><strong>The end of the war.</strong> As pledged repeatedly before and during the 2008 presidential campaign, President Barack Obama pulled our troops out of Iraq and Afghanistan prior the deadline he submitted to the Senate in 2007. With victory declared and apologies to Muslims mailed out on White House stationery, American soldiers were all on their ships and planes on or before March 23, 2008, bound for America. Our men and women in uniform are back home where they belong, gainfully employed in our prospering economy, and Iraq and Afghanistan are well on their way to becoming important international allies.<br /><br /><strong>Evil influences.</strong> Echoing a repeated campaign promise to rid government of the putrid influence of lobbyists, Obama took the oath of office and promptly hired more than 40 lobbyists for his own staff in order to keep them off Capital Hill, where their stench might influence members of Congress.<br /><br /><strong>Saving the economy.</strong> The dire recession years of Reagan-Bush-Bush are but a memory due to the Obama stimulus package. Unemployment has plummeted to over 10% and fear and anxiety have left the American people, all of whom are now fat and happy and getting free gastric bypass operations.<br /><br /><strong>Free health care for all.</strong> In the afterglow of Obama’s having brought the politically divided country together again in economic prosperity, both Democrats and Republicans overwhelmingly passed the health care bill in late 2008, which provides free medical treatment to all Americans at participating Social Security offices nationwide. Small business and the elderly poor have stepped up to the plate in their willingness to fund the trillions of dollars needed to create the eleven new government agencies required to support the bill.<br /><br /><strong>Deficit spending.</strong> After slamming the Bush administration for its out-of-control deficit spending, the new President put a halt to all new spending in favor of using five trillion new “no minimum payment” government credit cards which don’t have to be paid off until the President and Congress are long dead and buried.<br /><br /><strong>Guantanamo Bay.</strong> The President’s pledge to close the ill-conceived and human rights-violating prison at Guantanamo Bay by the end of 2009 came to pass just after Christmas and was celebrated in the streets across the Muslim world. The fathers, sons and brothers illegally imprisoned there were reunited with their families live on CNN. Most have already found gainful employment with militia groups in places like Iraq, Pakistan and Afghanistan.<br /><br /><strong>A Cleaner Earth.</strong> The Obama administration unveiled a plan that will require communities across the nation to spend billions of dollars in 2011 cleaning the smog from the air, with no help from the new government credit cards. Fortunately, because of the stimulus plan, there are piles of cash lying around city halls and state capitols, which will make compliance easy. Besides, the EPA says, the billions spent sucking fog molecules out of the air will be offset by the billions of dollars saved in annual smog-related deaths, which I assume result from soot cancer and smog toe. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /><strong>Unkept promises?</strong> The President indicated yesterday that any promises he has not kept were due to a particularly harsh Winter. We are merely thankful that Obama has yet to take any responsibility for this country and wish that former President George Bush, who, as an ex-President apparently retains enormous influence over the current administration, would just go away.</div></div>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-78490837478613132532010-02-17T20:13:00.000-08:002010-03-01T05:00:53.630-08:00Looking Forward to Some Good Coffee<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWkvRMaBnSB-ZlIlhw_iuWSmOhoTCnWnNcXXCa0YWh56haQX31uVKd-3q45yOmXhAZYumwVLi_w_kNQj3X1L5qSce5TERTS_RX3OIS11FyAXY1fSZPYC7jsy4r_gU6bARGRT1unQ/s1600-h/JCC+Logo+Final.bmp"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 198px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 187px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439432908658171298" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWkvRMaBnSB-ZlIlhw_iuWSmOhoTCnWnNcXXCa0YWh56haQX31uVKd-3q45yOmXhAZYumwVLi_w_kNQj3X1L5qSce5TERTS_RX3OIS11FyAXY1fSZPYC7jsy4r_gU6bARGRT1unQ/s400/JCC+Logo+Final.bmp" /></a><br /><div>There is a new coffee bar opening up soon not far from us. They are building now, and plan to open in April.</div><div></div><div> </div><div>I look forward to getting a nice dark roast or an espresso drink, and maybe a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">frap</span> or Italian soda for my kid. Oh, and a slice of red velvet cake.</div><div></div><div><a href="http://www.jamestowncoffee.com/">http://www.jamestowncoffee.com/</a></div><div></div><div></div>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-57045039997425099272010-02-17T19:50:00.001-08:002010-02-17T19:55:40.897-08:00Stowaway<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0fNsZuHKNHTOUaER9OzYltb4a9aotlStFdOy-T-1zFh9oxGoohLPIbxYqBWjwPfCEZw_-r2-bnVfL3H-itKQYtB-E0qLCN_LG2vKJEbQ7pZznk2EcV92A2w44ZApkitA0SVkQ-A/s1600-h/Stowaway.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439426336955758450" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0fNsZuHKNHTOUaER9OzYltb4a9aotlStFdOy-T-1zFh9oxGoohLPIbxYqBWjwPfCEZw_-r2-bnVfL3H-itKQYtB-E0qLCN_LG2vKJEbQ7pZznk2EcV92A2w44ZApkitA0SVkQ-A/s400/Stowaway.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Back in the early summer a strange little creature I first thought was a dragon appeared on the rear of my car. He seemed like a happy fellow, and he was causing no harm, so I allowed him to stick around.</div><div> </div><div>He traveled with me from the west coast to the east, and at some point in July disappeared.</div><div> </div><div>Just the other day, shortly after discovering a snow being had taken up residence in my garage refrigerator, the happy little leech reappeared on my car. </div><div> </div><div>Something is going on. And I intend to find out what.</div>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-84216771122031089902010-02-17T19:40:00.000-08:002010-02-17T19:48:24.218-08:00Snowaway<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-m-dn353NmyFwb6CfewtKYVCGL0JVrrkpbQsE2_ANSp7CtaO4SaGYUEPIHN6zDA-MqAxm6eliZ7DX6Jts4418bzf0SbMq80kAQxnOSFgGRtsivcpq7DACRnCzLRzXQUnAPucP7A/s1600-h/Snowaway.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439424434072602914" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-m-dn353NmyFwb6CfewtKYVCGL0JVrrkpbQsE2_ANSp7CtaO4SaGYUEPIHN6zDA-MqAxm6eliZ7DX6Jts4418bzf0SbMq80kAQxnOSFgGRtsivcpq7DACRnCzLRzXQUnAPucP7A/s400/Snowaway.jpg" /></a><br /><div>I found this creepy little guy lurking in the garage refrigerator yesterday. But like all creatures, he's doing what he needs to do to survive, I suppose. I will continue to give him sanctuary so long as he doesn't start raiding the fridge.</div><div> </div><div>Strange that he has cocktail umbrellas for arms...</div>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-84195783117136732892010-02-14T06:01:00.000-08:002010-02-14T06:06:51.462-08:00Snowball<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB4y7nn053bHK4olQxd2PWVKv8cOKh-iAEoIWX3ZbV8ayf6yZmjr1TAR3Bty4JIhrQsfQPvYjUtg0oEii03zewo1xSnHrJ5py12w9o9tBUiyIV_x2MECi5z18kJF08T66uoPE8zg/s1600-h/Snowball.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438099839782159154" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB4y7nn053bHK4olQxd2PWVKv8cOKh-iAEoIWX3ZbV8ayf6yZmjr1TAR3Bty4JIhrQsfQPvYjUtg0oEii03zewo1xSnHrJ5py12w9o9tBUiyIV_x2MECi5z18kJF08T66uoPE8zg/s400/Snowball.JPG" /></a><br /><div>On Friday we played basketball while it was snowing. </div><br /><div></div><div>I did not know snow could accumulate on a basketball. Cold, wet snow stuck to the basketball as we dribbled and shot, and it formed into little hard patches on the skin of the ball. Soon the ball lost a bit of its bounce.</div><br /><div></div><div>We played until the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">basketball</span> was covered with snow and our <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">gloveless</span> hands were numb.</div>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-44632465375898769672010-01-02T05:57:00.000-08:002010-01-05T20:19:10.606-08:00The Pants Monster Strikes Again<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNchadsnSUEL2eN9JQ2nv_Zu8oypK0PUm2C0OIiXzkDT8by-sJ-IyUzpCbPi42zLD8YNOYjKV7XS_65YGb9-labZz3gCH_QuYOSFsTJNPKbKZwfFD7xICQOe09xcodOvWwX34XiA/s1600-h/Pants.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422215704028266658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNchadsnSUEL2eN9JQ2nv_Zu8oypK0PUm2C0OIiXzkDT8by-sJ-IyUzpCbPi42zLD8YNOYjKV7XS_65YGb9-labZz3gCH_QuYOSFsTJNPKbKZwfFD7xICQOe09xcodOvWwX34XiA/s400/Pants.jpg" /></a><br /><div>In 2006, I blogged about a <a href="http://pacificgrits.blogspot.com/2006/02/rant-part-one.html">traumatic pants experience</a> with my Korean dry cleaning people. Two years later I blogged about finding a new Chinese cleaning outfit (<a href="http://pacificgrits.blogspot.com/search?q=pants">read about it here)</a> and was pleased... for a while.</div><br /><div></div><div>There is a dry cleaners on the corner that I walked into last week with a sweater, dress, pants and pile of shirts. I had never been there before, had they had not been recommended. They were merely convenient.</div><br /><div></div><div>The first thing to raise an alarm in my mind as I walked in the door was that the attendant was Caucasian. Now, please don't think I have anything against Caucasians - I don't. I am sure there are many fine Caucasian dry cleaners out there. The fact is, I used one non-Asian dry cleaner in the past twelve years and the results were less than satisfactory.</div><br /><div></div><div>When I turned in my ticket and retrieved my clothes an astonishing thing had occurred: the dry cleaner had duplicated a pair of my pants. </div><br /><div></div><div>Same pants, same brand, same size, identical in every way, the only difference being that one pair was pressed better than the other.</div><div></div><div>I don't know how they were replicated, and a phone call to their store provided no answers. They were as confused as I was.</div><div></div><div>I am keeping the pants.</div>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-24578375074253009792009-12-26T14:52:00.000-08:002009-12-26T14:59:54.017-08:00December 26From my diary, December 26, 2008<br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><strong>I am back in the office today after a lovely Christmas. The roads are, for the first morning since Wednesday the 17<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">th</span>, relatively clear and free of ice and snow. At least along my commute, which is not to say it’s the same everywhere around the Sound.</strong></span><br /><br />From my diary, December 26, 2009<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:courier new;">Everyone was in a foul mood this morning. No water. No heat. A pipe burst yesterday and we had water everywhere, including into the heating and air system. Caryn and Harper went off to wash and dry the towels and blankets she used to mop up the mess(and to keep the waters from flowing into the living room), and I went to the folks and showered. Dad followed me back and we went to work. We stripped insulation from the ducting in the basement, which poured water, insulation under the floor, drained the ducting, ripped out drywall and managed to fix the broken pipe (after three trips to Lowe's) and then I broke the water line to the kitchen faucet, which still needs to be fixed. But we have heat, and water, except to the kitchen sink and dishwasher.</span></strong><br /><br />The joys of the holidays! What a difference a year makes.Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-11456871289724530392009-12-25T08:03:00.000-08:002009-12-25T08:20:04.562-08:00A Christmas Memory 2009<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXY6MPWltLK6WRrtSSyrwTfCLsuFsci0PidqJ2_7e22uZvhA1WJtm8VRxJOqbDR8nqdPt0ugpcPyghMZ-negJFKziGq592CmeM3WTEE2DAnlytB9xxQ0eWM4QJ1CifgZUgG04LwA/s1600-h/DSCN2474.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419209236759737586" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXY6MPWltLK6WRrtSSyrwTfCLsuFsci0PidqJ2_7e22uZvhA1WJtm8VRxJOqbDR8nqdPt0ugpcPyghMZ-negJFKziGq592CmeM3WTEE2DAnlytB9xxQ0eWM4QJ1CifgZUgG04LwA/s400/DSCN2474.JPG" /></a><br /><div>Merry Christmas, everyone!</div>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-34439942029753556162009-12-24T19:17:00.000-08:002009-12-24T19:18:03.906-08:00A Christmas Memory 2008<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLuyRp0FR1qQ1Ip5SsO6ICgbS_AxZ3Mo4ueCSA8b2jJBd-t9yS0QWD6ef3qFAee2yQH1Q6yHzNvUahJEJk7X2WFqhZsOrIkAHDZXnAjicGwEK-OSWaDxQtOEApmQuXYHZtebzK9w/s1600-h/2008+Christmas+Display+Pig.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413453028678412306" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLuyRp0FR1qQ1Ip5SsO6ICgbS_AxZ3Mo4ueCSA8b2jJBd-t9yS0QWD6ef3qFAee2yQH1Q6yHzNvUahJEJk7X2WFqhZsOrIkAHDZXnAjicGwEK-OSWaDxQtOEApmQuXYHZtebzK9w/s320/2008+Christmas+Display+Pig.JPG" /></a><br /><div><div><div>Christmas 2008 was my last Christmas in Seattle, though I did not know it at the time. It snowed nearly every day the week before Christmas, and commuting to the office was a bear. But the white Christmas was nice.</div><br /><div></div><div>I was at Fred Meyer with my daughter in the weeks leading up to Christmas and she decided we needed an outdoor display, something besides the old fashioned lights I hung on the roof and around the front door and window. </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin4D-Aw9pHwJxEJ1z4eqq5mOO34OUhxP3VrPBYPEh0osuqF4FvqgWTxwmpkETBrBKjhL9bEo77xzgh7xdzzQyTgqkO4qPwA0e4hXw2o7AJIjSsMSGCB0jfH63X0DCUQFXyGthU0Q/s1600-h/2008+Snow+Car+(5).JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413455246919816850" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin4D-Aw9pHwJxEJ1z4eqq5mOO34OUhxP3VrPBYPEh0osuqF4FvqgWTxwmpkETBrBKjhL9bEo77xzgh7xdzzQyTgqkO4qPwA0e4hXw2o7AJIjSsMSGCB0jfH63X0DCUQFXyGthU0Q/s320/2008+Snow+Car+(5).JPG" /></a><br /><div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizRzAQ9Ow-ZsjSKGyN-pp7oOorFJG6VADbJPP5DaCpA73ZKOQeQf2HllLXd4s4dqIkpKPJhv0W3ZtPvAIIHFe_1WR92FesnRLhy9ZPmRHIDN951Jlo1zHNWKjIoIGapqE1ssIJ9A/s1600-h/2008+Snow+Car+(5).JPG"></a><div>While I was browsing in the store, she proceeded to rearrange the Christmas display items in the middle of a large aisle and informed me that I was to purchase a Christmas pig and some illuminated presents. What's a father to say? The photo here is an exact recreation of her Fred Meyer display.</div><br /><div>The Christmas pig is back this year, but adorning another lawn in another state far, far away from the snows of Seattle, Washington. </div><br /><div></div><div>Merry Christmas, everybody.</div></div></div>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-82279938663623082182009-12-23T19:36:00.000-08:002009-12-24T19:16:41.366-08:00A Christmas Memory 2004<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlmRRrrxNNnIaLErodf-qcABY_RAwmDV-2BLAlViN-Cq0rsZb9zL-50qhm49xNzRyPmszW77blH4phOSxy1QwyyD_07UQo1NoP3dJ_xlq7amO4Cq_3dmSBLp3bNejnogfeApBYuw/s1600-h/2004+Christmas+Snows!.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 267px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412704491357300530" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlmRRrrxNNnIaLErodf-qcABY_RAwmDV-2BLAlViN-Cq0rsZb9zL-50qhm49xNzRyPmszW77blH4phOSxy1QwyyD_07UQo1NoP3dJ_xlq7amO4Cq_3dmSBLp3bNejnogfeApBYuw/s400/2004+Christmas+Snows!.JPG" /></a><br /><div>This is one of my favorite photographs, taken during a Christmas snowfall in 2004. The kid in the tree strikes me as some strange winter bird.</div><br /><div></div><div>We loved the snow in Seattle, and my daughter loved playing outside as the flakes fell while my wife made warn cocoa for our return indoors.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-63626829855472837452009-12-21T18:55:00.000-08:002009-12-21T19:40:49.340-08:00A Christmas Memory 2006<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqwdPPL-Oaymq3y9r-8aZ-EfiMb70LsD0Ui8Sja6_4TaRfU9fjWMNoP3ML-prn6XKsQgO1ElghjTeMpU7Qe6TMsTKDGreDK35GcVCX6-FkWGOT4jGNKQiVxMcxicjiCFoo6FIybg/s1600-h/2006+Harper+Elf+Serious.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413451471302137426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqwdPPL-Oaymq3y9r-8aZ-EfiMb70LsD0Ui8Sja6_4TaRfU9fjWMNoP3ML-prn6XKsQgO1ElghjTeMpU7Qe6TMsTKDGreDK35GcVCX6-FkWGOT4jGNKQiVxMcxicjiCFoo6FIybg/s400/2006+Harper+Elf+Serious.JPG" /></a><br /><br />In 2006 my daughter served as a Santa's helper and passed out the Christmas gifts that were under the tree. She wore an elf costume that has a history going back to 1973, when I wore the very same elf costume in a Christmas parade. I remember our mothers made these elf costumes from a pattern. My old buddy Chris was in the parade with me, similarly attired, and there are, somewhere, some Super-8 movies of the two of us in our elf costumes frolicking in his kitchen prior to the parade.<br /><p>I am told that the day of that parade in 1973 was cold and sleeting, but I don't remember much about it. But that was my one shot at playing elf in a parade. And it was good.</p>It was great to see the old elf costume get some use after 33 years packed away with the holiday bric-a-brack. I am surprised it was still around. Perhaps it will last long enough to be worn some Christmas by my grandchild.Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-51690608487794871272009-12-20T12:26:00.000-08:002009-12-20T14:55:15.452-08:00A Christmas Memory 2003<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl4PUvOq-2UBP1zKjNlhGaJdnjBYUgcDyvqx6yPOMHlYoUG_pcq_EOa_hdWCRWW7UmGxngWSHAJRM8qSEKQ6bsDMVAiyFu4yq2kQ6eYM_FVoB9Cegh4EdTeIbgnUf_H2nPfavDAA/s1600-h/2003+Jay+George+Alan.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 246px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412701790846740450" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl4PUvOq-2UBP1zKjNlhGaJdnjBYUgcDyvqx6yPOMHlYoUG_pcq_EOa_hdWCRWW7UmGxngWSHAJRM8qSEKQ6bsDMVAiyFu4yq2kQ6eYM_FVoB9Cegh4EdTeIbgnUf_H2nPfavDAA/s400/2003+Jay+George+Alan.jpg" /></a><br />Pictured: me, <a href="http://tightywhitey.blogspot.com/">George </a>and <a href="http://ralangreen.blogspot.com/">Alan Greenbeans</a>.<br /><br /><div>We were all a little less gray.</div><br /><div></div><div>We all had different residences then.</div><br /><div></div><div>We were younger.</div><br /><div></div><div>Our kids were smaller.</div><br /><div></div><div>We were naive and carefree then. Well, maybe not carefree. That would have been 1983. Even then...</div>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-45266697060859084442009-12-18T09:17:00.000-08:002009-12-19T07:01:04.293-08:00A Christmas Memory 2001<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBZsOdPcBS_WfXnH-AcRElr15y0Eb4TpccUO7NLEIw_aWQrhH53QpfsdYEJ7pAfnig4ZQUFo2rVyhPiuKqcG4bodB6Vlsgeq12MzC_vlE07kg0YwhRr5vuNf12vJZz6EZmHrK7rw/s1600-h/2001+Kristi+and+Mike.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 257px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412699398949966882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBZsOdPcBS_WfXnH-AcRElr15y0Eb4TpccUO7NLEIw_aWQrhH53QpfsdYEJ7pAfnig4ZQUFo2rVyhPiuKqcG4bodB6Vlsgeq12MzC_vlE07kg0YwhRr5vuNf12vJZz6EZmHrK7rw/s400/2001+Kristi+and+Mike.JPG" /></a> My sister visited us in Seattle for Christmas 2001, a time marked by the sad departure of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Toonces</span>, the driving cat, whose hospitalization in the vet's ICU forced us to abandon our mountain cabin for an extended family gathering in our small apartment so that I could be near the suffering patient. But we had to let her go a few days before Christmas, and it was a sad time for me.<br /><br />But having family in town was nice, and our daughter, not quite a year old, really racked up!<br /><br />A day or two before Christmas my buddy Mike (Mixmaster DJ MC) dropped in with his daughter, who was about 20 months old at the time, and they are pictured here with my daughter (11 months) and my sister (age not disclosed).Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8569371.post-68530634569432449342009-12-16T17:40:00.000-08:002009-12-16T19:37:36.733-08:00A Christmas Memory 1999<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM7NhUkZhzUEuG0BpkZRgh6gC12xnXL8Ws2hrkeZ8kPiuNwqfS-FphlNc9eia1dgwvJewRoNrU2K-u6x8ntfuJQtm0MBb_1DVlu0NcJjW0UZiAAAuZC54DEPs1oX1e54zG9HEEFQ/s1600/1999+Pike+Place+December.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407479357581270802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM7NhUkZhzUEuG0BpkZRgh6gC12xnXL8Ws2hrkeZ8kPiuNwqfS-FphlNc9eia1dgwvJewRoNrU2K-u6x8ntfuJQtm0MBb_1DVlu0NcJjW0UZiAAAuZC54DEPs1oX1e54zG9HEEFQ/s400/1999+Pike+Place+December.JPG" /></a><br />Another Christmas in the Emerald City: 1999 was a good year and a memorable Christmas. That year I received from my wife a Weber grill which I still use today. It was on the lanai Christmas morning, along with the appropriate grilling implements.<br /><br />We developed a ritual of Christmas shopping down town each year, one we kept as long as we lived in Seattle. We would buy a few gifts at the Pike Place Market (pictured) each year, though we would often buy fresh seafood and produce at the market year round.<br /><br />In 1999 we were tw<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuTVhq_EgmM7ClqgCv6MJDNPAFevRRV9JXJ9zD9VWUDC1_axorHCw-1zPdG6tYtpc1bzhh_rpcxLPDn7SJQEk9WKsFT7CA_IKA9nHFeYocHMMBwIh371J50Nxw2YeJCzC8Vv4w_w/s1600/1999+Holidays+at+Ramayana.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407479212059692050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuTVhq_EgmM7ClqgCv6MJDNPAFevRRV9JXJ9zD9VWUDC1_axorHCw-1zPdG6tYtpc1bzhh_rpcxLPDn7SJQEk9WKsFT7CA_IKA9nHFeYocHMMBwIh371J50Nxw2YeJCzC8Vv4w_w/s400/1999+Holidays+at+Ramayana.JPG" /></a>o DINKs living in the city in the city without many responsibilities. A year later, my wife would be very pregnant with our first child, and after the baby arrived Christmastime changed, but not in a bad way. We transitioned well from celebrating Christmas as a couple to looking at the season through the eyes of a child. I would not change a thing, but I do recall those Christmases before our daughter was born with great fondness.<br /><br />That was another life.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div>Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15161585710178088981noreply@blogger.com0