Sometimes, it is the little triumphs that matter most. Along that lines, I am proud to announce that I have completed my first-ever puzzle without any help. Okay, it was the smaller of the two that run in our local newspaper. (And I am sure it is the easier one.)
And I am aware that Monday's puzzle is usually the easiest one of the week. But I have probably tried my hand at a thousand of these with no previous success. It took some serious memory work (I finally remembered that Winnie the Pooh's buddy was Piglet not Piggly) but, as the Detroit Lions would note, a win is a win.
My only regret is that it is only noon - a bit too early to open the Grand Marnier for a celebration.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Something to be truly thankful for
In many ways, this turned out to be one of the best of the 56 Thanksgivings I have been around for. The turkey on the grill experiment worked out fine. I learned a few things for future consumption and a couple little parts of the bird got singed too much. My cutting of the turkey left a lot to be desired. But it was very tasty turkey.
My wife made her killer fruit salad and contributed a pea dish from a recipe she had seen in a newspaper as well as supervising all the other nifty side dishes that go with a Thanksgiving meal. Our friend Steph came up with some yummy potatoes and a nifty stuffing dish with a nice kick to it. Our friend Sharon came with yams - something I had never had before. Our friend James brought some wonderful wine.
Steph invited one of the assistant basketball coaches at Hamline, a fellow I didn't know very well before today. Chris proved to be a delightful fellow, pitching right in to help with the turkey and even broadened his horizons a bit by having the ultimate in ginger ale, Vernors.
But what made this such a special day was the general feeling of good will that persisted all day in the house. People, including some who didn't know each other very well until today, got together for good food, repast, conversation and left with doggy bags of food for the next several days. For one afternoon, there were no arguments over about how stupid this politician is for his or her view on an issue. People spent the time smiling and listening to each other's stories - even if they didn't always understand the subjects.
At night, one of my favorite feel-good movies "Love Actually" was on. Finally (at about 11 p.m.), Pete, the Happy Dog (who had a good day, too - lots of attention and a turkey treat at dinner) and I took a late night stroll on a wonderfully crisp night -- the type where the air feels sharp ... and wonderful.
There are plenty of days to point fingers, scream about perceived injustices and yell at people. Thankfully, today was not one of them.
But here is what I will always remember about Thanksgiving 2009 on Cottage Avenue: at the end of the day, six people parted in a happy, contented state.
When is the last time you could say that?
My wife made her killer fruit salad and contributed a pea dish from a recipe she had seen in a newspaper as well as supervising all the other nifty side dishes that go with a Thanksgiving meal. Our friend Steph came up with some yummy potatoes and a nifty stuffing dish with a nice kick to it. Our friend Sharon came with yams - something I had never had before. Our friend James brought some wonderful wine.
Steph invited one of the assistant basketball coaches at Hamline, a fellow I didn't know very well before today. Chris proved to be a delightful fellow, pitching right in to help with the turkey and even broadened his horizons a bit by having the ultimate in ginger ale, Vernors.
But what made this such a special day was the general feeling of good will that persisted all day in the house. People, including some who didn't know each other very well until today, got together for good food, repast, conversation and left with doggy bags of food for the next several days. For one afternoon, there were no arguments over about how stupid this politician is for his or her view on an issue. People spent the time smiling and listening to each other's stories - even if they didn't always understand the subjects.
At night, one of my favorite feel-good movies "Love Actually" was on. Finally (at about 11 p.m.), Pete, the Happy Dog (who had a good day, too - lots of attention and a turkey treat at dinner) and I took a late night stroll on a wonderfully crisp night -- the type where the air feels sharp ... and wonderful.
There are plenty of days to point fingers, scream about perceived injustices and yell at people. Thankfully, today was not one of them.
But here is what I will always remember about Thanksgiving 2009 on Cottage Avenue: at the end of the day, six people parted in a happy, contented state.
When is the last time you could say that?
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Embarking on a new adventure
If you happen to be in the Como Park area of St. Paul next Thursday and see smoke billowing in an unusual fashion, don't be dismayed. It might mean a great experiment didn't work out so well.
After years of being the guest, I am taking my first crack at cooking a turkey for Thanksgiving. There will be only 3 or 4 of us present but that doesn't matter. It's the idea that counts, right?
Everything I have read says cooking a turkey is the easiest thing in the world. You simply clean out the crap inside it, wash it, pat it dry, place it in a pan (so the drippings will be there for gravy) and put it on the grill.
Four hours or so later, you take it off, carve it up into edible portions and gobble down to your heart's (and stomach's) content.
Sounds easy, doesn't it?
But I have had a few misadventures over the years with what was supposed to be easy food projects. My ex-wife can tell you about one with a grill (smaller than the one we will use next week) that nearly set part of Farrington Ave. on fire. There was an adventure with Easter Eggs one year that didn't work out so well for her sons. On another occasion, my 12-year old niece (now an ex-niece) politely had to instruct me how to make mashed potatoes.
Amazingly, I still get along wonderfully (at least, I think I do) with all of these people.
I admit to being excited about taking on this challenge. I ordered the bird from our favorite butcher the other day. We're making a list of the other important implements needed (meat thermometer that works, a little rack for the pan, etc.)
There should be plenty of leftovers, a critical part of the Thanksgiving feast. My wife and our friend Steph are consulting on the other parts of the menu (dressing, bread, etc.) There will be dressing, salad, bread, and pies.
Just in case the weather is too crappy to even walk to the grill -- a journey of roughly 20 steps -- (In Minnesota, this is very possible.), the oven will be on standby status. It should be a grand feast and a memorable day. (It would be even more memorable if the Detroit Lions beat up on the Green Bay Packers but that is out of my control.)
Just in case, I made one other stop after visiting the butcher the other day. I purchased a bottle of Chianti and added offerings of Paul Newman's Cabernet Sauvignon, Bella Sera's Pinot Noir and Archery Summit Pinot Noir from the Willamette Valley area of Oregon.
One can never have enough backup plans.
After years of being the guest, I am taking my first crack at cooking a turkey for Thanksgiving. There will be only 3 or 4 of us present but that doesn't matter. It's the idea that counts, right?
Everything I have read says cooking a turkey is the easiest thing in the world. You simply clean out the crap inside it, wash it, pat it dry, place it in a pan (so the drippings will be there for gravy) and put it on the grill.
Four hours or so later, you take it off, carve it up into edible portions and gobble down to your heart's (and stomach's) content.
Sounds easy, doesn't it?
But I have had a few misadventures over the years with what was supposed to be easy food projects. My ex-wife can tell you about one with a grill (smaller than the one we will use next week) that nearly set part of Farrington Ave. on fire. There was an adventure with Easter Eggs one year that didn't work out so well for her sons. On another occasion, my 12-year old niece (now an ex-niece) politely had to instruct me how to make mashed potatoes.
Amazingly, I still get along wonderfully (at least, I think I do) with all of these people.
I admit to being excited about taking on this challenge. I ordered the bird from our favorite butcher the other day. We're making a list of the other important implements needed (meat thermometer that works, a little rack for the pan, etc.)
There should be plenty of leftovers, a critical part of the Thanksgiving feast. My wife and our friend Steph are consulting on the other parts of the menu (dressing, bread, etc.) There will be dressing, salad, bread, and pies.
Just in case the weather is too crappy to even walk to the grill -- a journey of roughly 20 steps -- (In Minnesota, this is very possible.), the oven will be on standby status. It should be a grand feast and a memorable day. (It would be even more memorable if the Detroit Lions beat up on the Green Bay Packers but that is out of my control.)
Just in case, I made one other stop after visiting the butcher the other day. I purchased a bottle of Chianti and added offerings of Paul Newman's Cabernet Sauvignon, Bella Sera's Pinot Noir and Archery Summit Pinot Noir from the Willamette Valley area of Oregon.
One can never have enough backup plans.
Monday, November 9, 2009
11 is a significant number, after all
According to a website I ran across, the proper gift for a 11th wedding anniversary is ... steel?
Didn't sound very romantic to me.
My wife and I celebrated our 11th anniversary last Saturday in a slightly more traditional way. We had dinner at a local steak house we like and then met a close friend for a couple of drinks.
11 is an odd number in more ways than one.
Outside of a craps table (and football coaches), it doesn't mean much to most people. It doesn't stand for much else. But it does seem to me a milestone of sorts. It means you are now well into the second decade - a threshold that a lot of relationships don't reach. As in all such relationships, we have had our ups and downs. But when you march into a second decade, it tells me that we trust and love each other to such an extent that we can allow for disagreements to occur without becoming unbalanced. That, too, isn't very romantic. But it is something to be proud of.
I have always felt they got it kinda backwards in "Love Story," Love means wanting to say "I'm sorry" when you really feel that way. After 11 years, I still want to say that to Lynne.
Happy Anniversary, dear. Looking forward to the next 11 years as well.
Didn't sound very romantic to me.
My wife and I celebrated our 11th anniversary last Saturday in a slightly more traditional way. We had dinner at a local steak house we like and then met a close friend for a couple of drinks.
11 is an odd number in more ways than one.
Outside of a craps table (and football coaches), it doesn't mean much to most people. It doesn't stand for much else. But it does seem to me a milestone of sorts. It means you are now well into the second decade - a threshold that a lot of relationships don't reach. As in all such relationships, we have had our ups and downs. But when you march into a second decade, it tells me that we trust and love each other to such an extent that we can allow for disagreements to occur without becoming unbalanced. That, too, isn't very romantic. But it is something to be proud of.
I have always felt they got it kinda backwards in "Love Story," Love means wanting to say "I'm sorry" when you really feel that way. After 11 years, I still want to say that to Lynne.
Happy Anniversary, dear. Looking forward to the next 11 years as well.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
What the Yankees' win really meant
Sigh.
The baseball season is over. The team that played the best ball down the stretch and in the playoffs -- the New York Yankees -- won the World Series last night. That is as it should be but it hurts nonetheless.
Next to the closing of Conny's Creamy Cone down the street, this was the saddest night of the year because it means baseball is over. The good news is spring training is only a little over three months away and hope does spring eternal.
I have no problem with the Yankees themselves winning the title. They are an admirable group of veterans who may not get another chance. It is not a popular notion in my part of the world but Derek Jeter would be a perfectly good MVP choice. Every day, he made all the plays he should have (and a few he had no business making)and hit like a sonofagun. My suspicion is Minnesota's Joe Mauer, who missed a month but still won the batting title and was a superb defensive catcher all year, will win it.
But if Jeter does win, it is not a miscarriage of justice. (Now if CC Sabathia sneaks in as the Cy Young winner ahead of Kansas City's Zack Greinke, that would be a travesty of justice. But I digress.)
No, the problem with New York's win is a little more basic. It is very clear that the commissioner - along with his broadcast partners Fox, ESPN and TBS, had a vested interest and openly rooted for New York to succeed. The reason is the oldest one in the world - money. New York is still the financial epicenter of the country. A Yankee post-season appearance gets bigger ratings. Bigger ratings mean more money for everybody. When you are getting paid $17 million a year (as is Bud Selig's current per annum salary), you best be producing some big bucks for somebody.
So I am sure there were sighs of a different sort -- the relief type -- when US Steel won the World Series last night. The local comptrollers at MLB and the networks can get out the calculators and get to work.
I won't go as far as to suggest the conspiracy went down to the level of the umpires. However, it was an astonishing coincidence that NY got several breaks from obviously incorrect calls in the postseason.
What Mr. Selig and the network boys forget every year is the country cares more about good baseball than the actual teams playing it. In 1991, Atlanta and Minnesota -- hardly major TV markets produced boffo ratings because the games were wonderful. It is not necessary the Yankees, Red Sox or a LA team playing to have good, interesting baseball. But when those teams are not on the air, you can tell the networks are basically bored and only doing the games because they have to. If given their druthers, the network execs and MLB give me the impression they would rather be at '21' having a martini.
Major League Baseball was so disinterested in the playoff game for the AL Central title between Detroit and Minnesota that they refused to schedule it for prime time and assigned a home plate umpire who shouldn't be working in Little League. Turned out to be a hellacious 12-inning game that ended up going into prime time anyway. Served them right.
Granted, the above rant is not particularly fair to the Yankees or their fans. Regardless of the fact the Yankee roster's combined income could help reduce the national debt, they won the games they had to. For that, they deserve all the congrats and the city should celebrate accordingly.
But it would serve the commissioner and the networks well to remember the fans in Kansas City, Pittsburgh, Minnesota, Cincinnati, Seattle and San Francisco are just as rabid about winning and root just as hard for their teams as do the denizens who come to Yankee Stadium.
They do so knowing in advance their chances of post-season success are slim. But the beauty of baseball is hope does spring eternal and perhaps next year will be better. And if they get to the post-season, the commissioner and the networks have to show up ... even if they end up wearing snowsuits because the final games are played in November.
The baseball season is over. The team that played the best ball down the stretch and in the playoffs -- the New York Yankees -- won the World Series last night. That is as it should be but it hurts nonetheless.
Next to the closing of Conny's Creamy Cone down the street, this was the saddest night of the year because it means baseball is over. The good news is spring training is only a little over three months away and hope does spring eternal.
I have no problem with the Yankees themselves winning the title. They are an admirable group of veterans who may not get another chance. It is not a popular notion in my part of the world but Derek Jeter would be a perfectly good MVP choice. Every day, he made all the plays he should have (and a few he had no business making)and hit like a sonofagun. My suspicion is Minnesota's Joe Mauer, who missed a month but still won the batting title and was a superb defensive catcher all year, will win it.
But if Jeter does win, it is not a miscarriage of justice. (Now if CC Sabathia sneaks in as the Cy Young winner ahead of Kansas City's Zack Greinke, that would be a travesty of justice. But I digress.)
No, the problem with New York's win is a little more basic. It is very clear that the commissioner - along with his broadcast partners Fox, ESPN and TBS, had a vested interest and openly rooted for New York to succeed. The reason is the oldest one in the world - money. New York is still the financial epicenter of the country. A Yankee post-season appearance gets bigger ratings. Bigger ratings mean more money for everybody. When you are getting paid $17 million a year (as is Bud Selig's current per annum salary), you best be producing some big bucks for somebody.
So I am sure there were sighs of a different sort -- the relief type -- when US Steel won the World Series last night. The local comptrollers at MLB and the networks can get out the calculators and get to work.
I won't go as far as to suggest the conspiracy went down to the level of the umpires. However, it was an astonishing coincidence that NY got several breaks from obviously incorrect calls in the postseason.
What Mr. Selig and the network boys forget every year is the country cares more about good baseball than the actual teams playing it. In 1991, Atlanta and Minnesota -- hardly major TV markets produced boffo ratings because the games were wonderful. It is not necessary the Yankees, Red Sox or a LA team playing to have good, interesting baseball. But when those teams are not on the air, you can tell the networks are basically bored and only doing the games because they have to. If given their druthers, the network execs and MLB give me the impression they would rather be at '21' having a martini.
Major League Baseball was so disinterested in the playoff game for the AL Central title between Detroit and Minnesota that they refused to schedule it for prime time and assigned a home plate umpire who shouldn't be working in Little League. Turned out to be a hellacious 12-inning game that ended up going into prime time anyway. Served them right.
Granted, the above rant is not particularly fair to the Yankees or their fans. Regardless of the fact the Yankee roster's combined income could help reduce the national debt, they won the games they had to. For that, they deserve all the congrats and the city should celebrate accordingly.
But it would serve the commissioner and the networks well to remember the fans in Kansas City, Pittsburgh, Minnesota, Cincinnati, Seattle and San Francisco are just as rabid about winning and root just as hard for their teams as do the denizens who come to Yankee Stadium.
They do so knowing in advance their chances of post-season success are slim. But the beauty of baseball is hope does spring eternal and perhaps next year will be better. And if they get to the post-season, the commissioner and the networks have to show up ... even if they end up wearing snowsuits because the final games are played in November.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
An enjoyable duty
Today is Election Day. In St. Paul, we have a mildly competitive mayor's race, a School Board race (those are always interesting - people fighting madly for a job that pays $11,000 a year but has enormous power over kids' education) and a referendum about IRV - a voting procedure where you list your top three picks in the order you prefer them.
It's a not a full plate but it's more than enough to get your attention.
I enjoy voting and see it as more than just an offshoot of living in a free country. It's a duty - an enjoyable one - but a duty nonetheless.
The Senate race we had in Minnesota a year ago proves the value of each vote. Al Franken ended up winning by a razor-thin margin. If 313 people in Minnesota had said "To hell with it, my vote doesn't matter", Norm Coleman would still be a senator here. That's 313 people in a state with an estimated population of 5,167,101. According to my calculator, that's a percentage of .0000605.
Pretty slim margin, I'd say.
I understand that today's politics can wear a person out. There are only so many ads you can watch before you want to upchuck. But an active democracy demands participation. So it is incumbent to make some time to get to your polling place. If you don't do so, any arguments you make about the people you could have voted out lack steam. Unlike what some of the TV talkies try to tell us, we always have a chance to have our say in this country. Today is that day.
I remember taking my dear late mother-in-law Colleen to her polling place one voting Tuesday. It was snowing and blowing as only it can here. The building she was voting was barely visible from the street. But she was damned and determined to cast her ballot and called to make sure I was coming at the appointed time. She was, as Hubert Humphrey used to say, pleased as punch to cast her vote.
If she was still alive today, I know she would have cast her vote for whatever was on the ballot in Falcon Heights - even if it was only a race for a seat on The Sewer Board.
That kind of determination and pride is really what this country was founded on. It's up to us to keep the spirit going.
It's a not a full plate but it's more than enough to get your attention.
I enjoy voting and see it as more than just an offshoot of living in a free country. It's a duty - an enjoyable one - but a duty nonetheless.
The Senate race we had in Minnesota a year ago proves the value of each vote. Al Franken ended up winning by a razor-thin margin. If 313 people in Minnesota had said "To hell with it, my vote doesn't matter", Norm Coleman would still be a senator here. That's 313 people in a state with an estimated population of 5,167,101. According to my calculator, that's a percentage of .0000605.
Pretty slim margin, I'd say.
I understand that today's politics can wear a person out. There are only so many ads you can watch before you want to upchuck. But an active democracy demands participation. So it is incumbent to make some time to get to your polling place. If you don't do so, any arguments you make about the people you could have voted out lack steam. Unlike what some of the TV talkies try to tell us, we always have a chance to have our say in this country. Today is that day.
I remember taking my dear late mother-in-law Colleen to her polling place one voting Tuesday. It was snowing and blowing as only it can here. The building she was voting was barely visible from the street. But she was damned and determined to cast her ballot and called to make sure I was coming at the appointed time. She was, as Hubert Humphrey used to say, pleased as punch to cast her vote.
If she was still alive today, I know she would have cast her vote for whatever was on the ballot in Falcon Heights - even if it was only a race for a seat on The Sewer Board.
That kind of determination and pride is really what this country was founded on. It's up to us to keep the spirit going.
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