tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79507538754839617502024-03-19T12:36:25.696-07:00The Family RoseSENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-61996387348720352762009-02-01T21:25:00.000-08:002009-02-01T21:32:29.788-08:00SoCo Pretty Much RocksThey have these peacocks just wandering the roadside.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJaI0ityb-sbqKfobsp0Nsn_hyUDhnEhfTz3bp-qYYamzPlPtHFgtdOJ1sFklJJQ9xiklo_yYd1Sue3Sk45Z9j-H8eIO4zvRr3xw5FHhm4d4bv2yuE_tV4_t2WH3il8UnVPKXCo7xMPNM/s1600-h/PrettyBird.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJaI0ityb-sbqKfobsp0Nsn_hyUDhnEhfTz3bp-qYYamzPlPtHFgtdOJ1sFklJJQ9xiklo_yYd1Sue3Sk45Z9j-H8eIO4zvRr3xw5FHhm4d4bv2yuE_tV4_t2WH3il8UnVPKXCo7xMPNM/s400/PrettyBird.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298067982909779122" border="0" /></a><br />Some places have birds. SoCo has these.SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-72980928416959486862009-02-01T21:21:00.000-08:002009-02-01T21:24:51.934-08:00Mike Pretty Much RocksAt cooking... and other things too numerous to mention.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7WFiBfS1ClE84dvQImsPLdcZD9A8wjRMRjKGTpUGNN2QBhpQEws-WIoKho5J4MW2x5wIAZ1ZLd0zV8q0fDdRPAA3vnFiT0zlF36cRHpw2YFX7LUeZ4rI82U6Fi5f4RKvvPAXN1GcViGQ/s1600-h/Chili.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7WFiBfS1ClE84dvQImsPLdcZD9A8wjRMRjKGTpUGNN2QBhpQEws-WIoKho5J4MW2x5wIAZ1ZLd0zV8q0fDdRPAA3vnFiT0zlF36cRHpw2YFX7LUeZ4rI82U6Fi5f4RKvvPAXN1GcViGQ/s400/Chili.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298066591190386354" border="0" /></a><br />Some people make chili. Mike makes this.SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-52343664925555532032009-01-21T22:07:00.000-08:002009-01-21T22:21:43.373-08:00A Little Colour......on an otherwise bleak Tennessee day.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAi90R_1Nvt0XRL_KFHaTOwOpstzDNXcaQnssn3bwUUxS2He2v0Bj9_Qj1DYPQV_4r9WqRAv6uCdR-e4oVs3yoe_P_J2k4e3dhHNZKyX_F2R2s44oAazFwhgWzn4ux6kT-4FXjwYSQUUw/s1600-h/Wildlife.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAi90R_1Nvt0XRL_KFHaTOwOpstzDNXcaQnssn3bwUUxS2He2v0Bj9_Qj1DYPQV_4r9WqRAv6uCdR-e4oVs3yoe_P_J2k4e3dhHNZKyX_F2R2s44oAazFwhgWzn4ux6kT-4FXjwYSQUUw/s400/Wildlife.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293996249967789570" border="0" /></a><br />Outside of Shelley's bedroom window were these beautiful creatures, including this Blue Jay (although he preferred just "Jay").<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1fiowbyhp3h8r5ocz9sAkU0vmreWU6yL64g21PHieT8846MunO11xmlykYz6lMeazCwYDsOfAIozsgdydP_MEasBV9aE09FBa8Be-2ec-CZEKVv-G3xWszhI2eLd4AV7hLD-gyJl6gLk/s1600-h/Wildlife-2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1fiowbyhp3h8r5ocz9sAkU0vmreWU6yL64g21PHieT8846MunO11xmlykYz6lMeazCwYDsOfAIozsgdydP_MEasBV9aE09FBa8Be-2ec-CZEKVv-G3xWszhI2eLd4AV7hLD-gyJl6gLk/s400/Wildlife-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293996254852910066" border="0" /></a><br />I believe this is the very first time I have ever seen a Cardinal, except that one time at the Catholic Church when I was five (remember kids, no means no).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4MLZ1hKiiXW_QY9FEbcZn1w-Qz3PxBxHFAC7ppBr5N7xVSKHfqCGCcIWw-SkNZ_pxrlWVo7SWjCLmyKKyimb-UqltsA4gsdqQn5-Nhl9mGqPcpFiagQPNxnKzzEut3PoT7C7Kgj3_VHI/s1600-h/Wildlife-3.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4MLZ1hKiiXW_QY9FEbcZn1w-Qz3PxBxHFAC7ppBr5N7xVSKHfqCGCcIWw-SkNZ_pxrlWVo7SWjCLmyKKyimb-UqltsA4gsdqQn5-Nhl9mGqPcpFiagQPNxnKzzEut3PoT7C7Kgj3_VHI/s400/Wildlife-3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293996254420260914" border="0" /></a><span><br />And while we are on the subject of dirty minds, is it just me, or does it look like this little guy is clinging to a set of balls?<br /></span>SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-40915043248684601632009-01-18T18:48:00.000-08:002009-01-18T19:28:27.735-08:00Tennesee, Not What I ThoughtNortheastern Tennessee looks about like this...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1lDe_ZdmmI54GONC6NbRRG8NlMSCJBCHAann8dzJZMSZGmNz_wKR3gE45mMUKy7DMptbN1auFvdEolcXQsTYbHcjJJ_6ymIi5jpyW7pveTG_8Zwx5VudoPoaAjdXGh4atYO1_OwFXj4k/s1600-h/TN-2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1lDe_ZdmmI54GONC6NbRRG8NlMSCJBCHAann8dzJZMSZGmNz_wKR3gE45mMUKy7DMptbN1auFvdEolcXQsTYbHcjJJ_6ymIi5jpyW7pveTG_8Zwx5VudoPoaAjdXGh4atYO1_OwFXj4k/s400/TN-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292836804992145986" border="0" /></a><br />A little hilly, a few trees, countless barns (I didn't feel like counting), some power lines... what else... nothing really. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBUmRZXM7rerHIw2Ko3O8gwhwL9daCVQdYCYpSCHUtoz-TDgNgiVNvk6BXln02y_qMMMYGT0BdBc9ha2bTtDbR8kAVDby5gfFXfN8ukTQ4bxpHYFjfI04dMB1saOVastXowl4DKiJLlqU/s1600-h/TN-5.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBUmRZXM7rerHIw2Ko3O8gwhwL9daCVQdYCYpSCHUtoz-TDgNgiVNvk6BXln02y_qMMMYGT0BdBc9ha2bTtDbR8kAVDby5gfFXfN8ukTQ4bxpHYFjfI04dMB1saOVastXowl4DKiJLlqU/s400/TN-5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292836817012545218" border="0" /></a><br />These are pretty popular. Even in the middle of nowhere (actually it's in a town called Gray, but don't get me started on whether or not Gray could be considered a town) they build these enormous structures as a monument to the lack of quality food in this part of the country.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGsrnirAWKWwJfJRS-kabMh87ACfUtwdOU7AbnITMsyye2u1MGMjwUX94G7aFck6YH1Spkx3kTzWocdeuRcdC5ZxIgE5bl_b6W7DDBMoKxEZqSP7ehPQ54rylthHB269LhyGoYP4HTdrI/s1600-h/TN-4.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGsrnirAWKWwJfJRS-kabMh87ACfUtwdOU7AbnITMsyye2u1MGMjwUX94G7aFck6YH1Spkx3kTzWocdeuRcdC5ZxIgE5bl_b6W7DDBMoKxEZqSP7ehPQ54rylthHB269LhyGoYP4HTdrI/s400/TN-4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292836816987910594" border="0" /></a><br />And the reason for my visit to this culinary delight of a region of a State I've always wanted to visit? Harry and Shelley, with Harry standing on the right in his lovely kitchen, and to his left, not Shelley, but rather my father, whose trip overlapped with my own.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitniUpIVl35jrsceOptrsmaygyUT6CR-DF04ClAYo47UUaBhXtswf8aJ2RPp3vJjifgD2xgUohzwkxqQja1dJl5d6mviupRuJ1GH98fzp2kHSZERxlZyiZY_7NSQqJJEpVIVqgIE2Nx94/s1600-h/TN-3.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitniUpIVl35jrsceOptrsmaygyUT6CR-DF04ClAYo47UUaBhXtswf8aJ2RPp3vJjifgD2xgUohzwkxqQja1dJl5d6mviupRuJ1GH98fzp2kHSZERxlZyiZY_7NSQqJJEpVIVqgIE2Nx94/s400/TN-3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292836810453381490" border="0" /></a><br />As Dad and his sister Linda readied themselves to depart back to Atlanta, Harry deftly explains that Georgia is "that way."<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRlnDnTEoau7GunMM-eDW2Hgv7hOMQ4xNyehjI90bEnHtiaHsUVGXPgYlgX0NqxlfD4Mf6ytd__8YG7a2b4IqzPKDhuzyouRyFKU1AMuhPlpmx59VFaXSZP-h9OM1oEz_wlfyKp2_Qq8Q/s1600-h/TN.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRlnDnTEoau7GunMM-eDW2Hgv7hOMQ4xNyehjI90bEnHtiaHsUVGXPgYlgX0NqxlfD4Mf6ytd__8YG7a2b4IqzPKDhuzyouRyFKU1AMuhPlpmx59VFaXSZP-h9OM1oEz_wlfyKp2_Qq8Q/s400/TN.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292836808892620050" border="0" /></a><br />Aaahhhh... how often does this happen? Not often enough.SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-16919973927585494012009-01-15T21:42:00.000-08:002009-01-15T21:59:14.666-08:00My new baby......is a Canon EOS 5D Mark II, and it is a thing of beauty. Although it is what one can do with the 5DMKII that makes it so special. <br /><br />Case in point, my desert for the evening, a spicy tuna hand roll from John and Yung's sushi joint down the road. Shot with a Metz MZ-54 flash angled towards a poster to the right of the table with a few incandescents serving as fill, this is desert at its finest.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlUnB3yQftlkEKtXzA9kpIh6BT9L5RXkvJhlbuMbEhFebd72fNzxZwNm8_o_Ihyphenhyphenfhkdf8-X4ThyphenhyphenHvqah1ZjoFcyv9QaW39lo57zsXns6_oh7O_6Mdn2NrCaIRDfMj8RePVIrLIT425NHE/s1600-h/Sushi.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlUnB3yQftlkEKtXzA9kpIh6BT9L5RXkvJhlbuMbEhFebd72fNzxZwNm8_o_Ihyphenhyphenfhkdf8-X4ThyphenhyphenHvqah1ZjoFcyv9QaW39lo57zsXns6_oh7O_6Mdn2NrCaIRDfMj8RePVIrLIT425NHE/s400/Sushi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291765317752166802" border="0" /></a><br />1/200 sec at f/2.8, ISO 200 45mm (EF24-70mm f/2.8L USM)SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-52508352777238418382009-01-05T19:11:00.000-08:002009-01-05T19:21:04.534-08:00RighteousnessAfter clicking "refresh" several dozen times over the past week, grades for the Fall 2008 semester have been posted.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiHZ_1tfK8noDf8ezKxokUJPi35YVHk0vx06xXpXLR-bUvCllBByBlc7K9c9Bu0LLNwFi9p0MvggLBXBkcFfBVaFnSeMmwJ4YVKjoDGboFbeRvXfBoeWI0o4L6L3jc-BLTgia0bI4wkp0/s1600-h/SSUFall2008.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 164px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiHZ_1tfK8noDf8ezKxokUJPi35YVHk0vx06xXpXLR-bUvCllBByBlc7K9c9Bu0LLNwFi9p0MvggLBXBkcFfBVaFnSeMmwJ4YVKjoDGboFbeRvXfBoeWI0o4L6L3jc-BLTgia0bI4wkp0/s400/SSUFall2008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288013321712819250" border="0" /></a><br />My most difficult course resulted in a "B," which is not altogether surprising. I know what my Theory professor expects now (I knew it then but I was honestly incredibly intimidated by the coursework and I did not give it the time it deserved), and as I take Contemporary Theory next semester from the same Professor (Professor James Dean that is, no shit) I expect nothing less than top tier work from myself. My cumulative GPA is now a 2.389 (yes, it truly is) and if I am fortunate, I can have my lesser courses (of which there are many) dropped from my transcripts to better reflect the student I am today, and not the one from eight years ago. Either way, a 3.75 means this kid is on the Dean's List for Fall 2008, and that my friends is righteous.<br /><br />In other righteous news, the property management company that oversees my soon-to-be-foreclosed property happens to have an identical unit to mine less than a block away available for rental at the end of this month. If the planets line up just so, I may have to simply roll my possessions down the road, and I will already know exactly where they are supposed to go. As my father would say, "Fucking 'A Josh. Fucking A." Err... maybe he doesn't say that, but he should. Because that would be righteous.SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-3063721250771546932009-01-03T22:59:00.000-08:002009-01-03T23:17:53.007-08:00This was amazing...And terribly cute as well. On New Year's Day, I spent the evening with three of my favorite people, including this one: dear sweet Ruby Day.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrTgIwrKvXgrQP81uXrDSqbIQwfHV-7yfPF230AoShVpK1jbOo5zZ4lslWUWjdUuF9e8N9meShuB94_entS-AvfcZgZcjGeJCQ9myzeRUU8lFz0aDsDbvpPCv6ekGfOamqMPVYeX-z6w/s1600-h/RubyDay1108.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 297px; height: 198px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrTgIwrKvXgrQP81uXrDSqbIQwfHV-7yfPF230AoShVpK1jbOo5zZ4lslWUWjdUuF9e8N9meShuB94_entS-AvfcZgZcjGeJCQ9myzeRUU8lFz0aDsDbvpPCv6ekGfOamqMPVYeX-z6w/s320/RubyDay1108.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287332245973241986" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNbrVXXrIKRH5DsDzA-wizbQrTkmGsKUy3TKt9Ol7tY4sezELy_ydG9-jOedaIhNTiEH3VKbQNHvJuARKoRVoeUCb0VnWH0FLceCFV93fRnMJ7dRKUKsiUSs6Bm9jDpvUpCCwUNXjQwjA/s1600-h/RubyDay1108-2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 297px; height: 198px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNbrVXXrIKRH5DsDzA-wizbQrTkmGsKUy3TKt9Ol7tY4sezELy_ydG9-jOedaIhNTiEH3VKbQNHvJuARKoRVoeUCb0VnWH0FLceCFV93fRnMJ7dRKUKsiUSs6Bm9jDpvUpCCwUNXjQwjA/s320/RubyDay1108-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287332400926792002" border="0" /></a><br />I don't know that it gets any cuter than this. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjkHC480K0HnRhF0lpOB-3pRqNaonRU-mwkT8ipLrvtSJO624_SB6YNw7f2OGJfBhl8ASAsgmvUgM-rOeL_or88n36Tb7K4pSQOwlPLyz278mNdwS5_D6tXRhHW8Qf1NT0kEIDi5tyFQ0/s1600-h/CurryPaste.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 297px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjkHC480K0HnRhF0lpOB-3pRqNaonRU-mwkT8ipLrvtSJO624_SB6YNw7f2OGJfBhl8ASAsgmvUgM-rOeL_or88n36Tb7K4pSQOwlPLyz278mNdwS5_D6tXRhHW8Qf1NT0kEIDi5tyFQ0/s320/CurryPaste.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287332233514419122" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOrGLt-Xv0WKhBxi5UVr3hJ3j9GrgjZ-JqVZNfczxoPU3SdSjgdOCohuh6wwgptwoHMtuTZCt1bX82OOAdtRzgLUCsPxv4cFyATsc-JpHL71piZS8mOIdsOh2KBSK94NBDZyt0n_fZf-0/s1600-h/FryingCurryPaste.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 297px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOrGLt-Xv0WKhBxi5UVr3hJ3j9GrgjZ-JqVZNfczxoPU3SdSjgdOCohuh6wwgptwoHMtuTZCt1bX82OOAdtRzgLUCsPxv4cFyATsc-JpHL71piZS8mOIdsOh2KBSK94NBDZyt0n_fZf-0/s320/FryingCurryPaste.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287332241095068706" border="0" /></a><br />Mike has been eager to try his hand at a Thai Curry, and while I did not understand his hesitation at first, after reading from the official Thai Curry cookbook, I realized what an undertaking this was. I believe we ground, minced and pounded a dozen ingredients until we formed the curry paste, seen here in its raw form on the left. Once pounded, we fried the curry in coconut cream over low heat for about ten minutes until the flavors we best liked began to waft from the pan. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyauLmHMMTPxppqv583x6rLvxU11Rg_IN33U-rd35HKn3ikQ3qHnTJNl1FZ5c2UFLOnGXEayHfNDPDzvq5_zjHjgWTdcQ84BfNqm_lWn6A9ROlXuWc12QS7_hyphenhyphenWBBQH5jxM-RzJnY4d8E/s1600-h/CurrySauce.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 295px; height: 205px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyauLmHMMTPxppqv583x6rLvxU11Rg_IN33U-rd35HKn3ikQ3qHnTJNl1FZ5c2UFLOnGXEayHfNDPDzvq5_zjHjgWTdcQ84BfNqm_lWn6A9ROlXuWc12QS7_hyphenhyphenWBBQH5jxM-RzJnY4d8E/s320/CurrySauce.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287332229401225714" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD1NFe0i0wZ2tWB3I1LHjkXhR1r5GmZ08Zj-vbhL4Gv5guF-Y3td_wDH0AjCbp9xz-ZKD2xxn9twK-KObGw_TnDGEoML3TMtVZgSz2OnD1HfvMokkxfUPD1PC-tekCpTqI2TEwr2sSW08/s1600-h/CurryFinished.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 297px; height: 207px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD1NFe0i0wZ2tWB3I1LHjkXhR1r5GmZ08Zj-vbhL4Gv5guF-Y3td_wDH0AjCbp9xz-ZKD2xxn9twK-KObGw_TnDGEoML3TMtVZgSz2OnD1HfvMokkxfUPD1PC-tekCpTqI2TEwr2sSW08/s320/CurryFinished.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287332228326988642" border="0" /></a><br />In the meantime, we poached an entire chicken in coconut milk, then drained the stock and pulled the chicken from the skin and bones by hand. Using fresh coconut milk, we combined the curry paste, kaffir lime leafs, Thai basil and the chicken, and cooked the resulting curry until the milk reduced, fortifying the flavoring from the curry paste. Served with Jasmine rice and a bit of the Thai basil, this was an excellent dish with a fair amount of flavor. If you think French cooking is impressive, try a Thai curry.SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-16969532034410329762009-01-03T22:53:00.001-08:002009-01-03T22:58:57.093-08:00The Four Faces of OliveI'll be honest. When Olive was born, I did not find her particularly cute. It's awful, I know. But today? Olive is pretty darned cute. In the span of about 10 minutes, Rachel M. (Mommy #2) was able to coax these expressions of her, captured here for your baby-viewing enjoyment.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHfPb7PLVsTQL31Xmj0dCT914ZkKpGL9AN2LioT3JNcQ83Ztd1bGvrswgf-zq_cy1PoNjqPwcb-RGWouFvywpA4Pk_DB7i5gSH4kKfgu9hsykIjoQDYeq1WH6J-lLaTUkKaMg_aoKuieY/s1600-h/Olive-3.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 289px; height: 193px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHfPb7PLVsTQL31Xmj0dCT914ZkKpGL9AN2LioT3JNcQ83Ztd1bGvrswgf-zq_cy1PoNjqPwcb-RGWouFvywpA4Pk_DB7i5gSH4kKfgu9hsykIjoQDYeq1WH6J-lLaTUkKaMg_aoKuieY/s320/Olive-3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287328587247748994" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-EAdNG3hDhjeKYMYrI7oMEstpr_FPhEeHTfBD7inazJEl6YG4A662YlQiefwokSN0vOZcK3s8LQ-uCz__gGwtppPK5kxXEKTyvEnZiHHEaE3bu2tT7rzZM2gRCBfE5J8QQv0gnRz008s/s1600-h/Olive-2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 289px; height: 193px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-EAdNG3hDhjeKYMYrI7oMEstpr_FPhEeHTfBD7inazJEl6YG4A662YlQiefwokSN0vOZcK3s8LQ-uCz__gGwtppPK5kxXEKTyvEnZiHHEaE3bu2tT7rzZM2gRCBfE5J8QQv0gnRz008s/s320/Olive-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287328582611589218" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtjpV4WeEqUCeCv5YPtJHo3BKC7l0Aab61xbYwIuFF19pjLoWbMfyaE1M5QAz-getS2mXERPVxFGXl_WwcMoDUoCGdmJrFdo0zwgXZ3WbQOc1FhzoUI1c2los285waKe6aPRMyMCcNy6Q/s1600-h/Olive1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 291px; height: 193px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtjpV4WeEqUCeCv5YPtJHo3BKC7l0Aab61xbYwIuFF19pjLoWbMfyaE1M5QAz-getS2mXERPVxFGXl_WwcMoDUoCGdmJrFdo0zwgXZ3WbQOc1FhzoUI1c2los285waKe6aPRMyMCcNy6Q/s320/Olive1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287328584548007458" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimcdHDKZUkfrkfmHdOI0RQ39IKAjAPV8c5XEiCtxoNFHmZVsJTFkm2rttk8HD3tUSILRALgmlhwFQMIVW8M5VzNOOJsIhiwgdXjesKOHWKIVzZxh6NwPaBFSQeWRyAVjIngr-psjY6YR0/s1600-h/Olive.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 289px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimcdHDKZUkfrkfmHdOI0RQ39IKAjAPV8c5XEiCtxoNFHmZVsJTFkm2rttk8HD3tUSILRALgmlhwFQMIVW8M5VzNOOJsIhiwgdXjesKOHWKIVzZxh6NwPaBFSQeWRyAVjIngr-psjY6YR0/s320/Olive.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287328581964676994" border="0" /></a>SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-60984760875651170932008-12-27T15:03:00.000-08:002008-12-27T15:05:04.073-08:00Who would have thought?My soon to be former co-worker, Mr. Jeff Sterling, continues to astound me, at times by his ignorance, at times by his charisma, and always by his musical ability. Enjoy.<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/JJZCYB63fes&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/JJZCYB63fes&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-75853236854971975032008-12-21T15:51:00.000-08:002008-12-21T16:04:59.770-08:00Final(s) Week(s) are Over!And everything went as smoothly as I could hope for, that is until I missed my very last final by two days. How could this happen you ask? There is this document, several in fact, which publish the dates and times of final exams that when read and properly interpreted, alert one to each and every final exam that is held on campus during finals week. Did I read this document? No. But my professor did, and thus I showed up to an empty classroom, no professor and a final exam that had taken place two days earlier than I had expected. You might be thinking, "Josh, are you sure you're ready for college?" That's good, keep your smart-ass comments to yourself. Thinking is a perfectly normal activity, acceptable for most people in most forms at most times. Just don't let me in on it. <br /><br />I was able to make up the final, at home, using a laptop, after eating entirely too much of a burrito Angela had graciously brought over for me. Even with the advantage of typing the final instead of writing it out by hand, it was by far the most difficult task of the semester, involving questions such as,<br /><pre><blockquote>Explain what the consequences of the Protestant ethic were and how it<br />helped to create capitalist action orientations. In your answer explain<br />the notions of the calling, predestination and the role of Luther and<br />Calvin. Explain the two pieces of pastoral advice given when individuals<br />would ask, “am I one of the elect?” and why this advice was important.<br />Finally, explain two alternatives to the capitalist spirit, such as<br />fatalism or pietism, and finally what lead to the “iron cage?”</blockquote></pre> Which begs the question, "Why would you continue with sociological theory next semester after having your ass handed to you this fall?" And the reason is simple: I don't know. But I will be quite adept at answering multi-part essays on subjects that would normally make me curl up in a ball and cry. And nobody wants that.SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-66020850006070940112008-12-21T15:19:00.001-08:002008-12-21T15:48:32.377-08:00I don't quite know how to explain this...Perhaps it is best to simply show you. The McNamee clan has many rituals, ceremonies and traditions I am only now becoming intimately familiar with, and the latest is the family video project. For this Christmas, Lynn took it upon herself to plan a video present for Sandy and Mac (the folks), which involved a great deal of pageantry, but very little scripting. I was asked to document the following in exchange for dinner, the opportunity not to publicly embarrass myself and a very good excuse for not partaking in the festivities. Before we continue on with the shenanigans, we have some cuteness to get out of the way.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKa6Bf5dV1FiSPJDxn2Z5FdOOtIw49PRluiAZ-_t1mjKNirQ_tKVT36j8JHbXSj1zjH0nW8fRBDTGClQsT4OyID5TnNoMTqjjA79lcZ86LlchVD5LoqcpwFMnt42AWRHgmrDIk3WYfpr4/s1600-h/Snowflake-1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 291px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKa6Bf5dV1FiSPJDxn2Z5FdOOtIw49PRluiAZ-_t1mjKNirQ_tKVT36j8JHbXSj1zjH0nW8fRBDTGClQsT4OyID5TnNoMTqjjA79lcZ86LlchVD5LoqcpwFMnt42AWRHgmrDIk3WYfpr4/s320/Snowflake-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282388293683495762" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUSAs8aGcY5EYiFA2kqp2xuTv44MbgBN-mZjz0OGqN8sYYHM6QX9fw_mqKYsdQ8UOzJ1VXQuSgL4xhMAWLeMMo__kDe_oYmq74h_Ec4yYuwKyE5CZfEVchtDV304HOqkW9nZbdQZPgn5U/s1600-h/Snowflake-1-6.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 291px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUSAs8aGcY5EYiFA2kqp2xuTv44MbgBN-mZjz0OGqN8sYYHM6QX9fw_mqKYsdQ8UOzJ1VXQuSgL4xhMAWLeMMo__kDe_oYmq74h_Ec4yYuwKyE5CZfEVchtDV304HOqkW9nZbdQZPgn5U/s320/Snowflake-1-6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282388011830142962" border="0" /></a><br />Andrew is the youngest in the family, and while not the most photogenic, he took a moment away from examining the quality of the Christmas tree decorations to give me this pose. As Lynn explained Andrew's starring role in the evening's production, she may have lost Andrew after requesting a chasse followed by an en dedans and finished with a leaping piroette.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqUaQyDgvosfAFZgbh0c1iOt32EIhQ7yzLaK3VKMZmx7ulNLhxfMtqm52KOGmc7_CsxUNKfLzSMLaLpSNivpyr8Ypco-IqumRUxzjyVaFUYGiuTouyGSR2owH2zWwRzqL-HUachnjFv4M/s1600-h/Snowflake-1-2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqUaQyDgvosfAFZgbh0c1iOt32EIhQ7yzLaK3VKMZmx7ulNLhxfMtqm52KOGmc7_CsxUNKfLzSMLaLpSNivpyr8Ypco-IqumRUxzjyVaFUYGiuTouyGSR2owH2zWwRzqL-HUachnjFv4M/s320/Snowflake-1-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282388292624054386" border="0" /></a><br />Now this girl knows when a camera is about. Morgan never failed to posture for the camera, that is until the end of the evening when her stockings became too much to bear.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOxwWLDsX6zOa5vH3b1Ow_2IH18cgbX4K5gj9dbAAzmYfBrGlIv7GVPOvMKlI-DtMza3nUlgzfpbclPHBl2dtDNXLTJERr9TAy6ZrN9_6kAEvYg0des4MrCcvDPiA0OeL2g0w0F_TzL3w/s1600-h/Snowflake-1-3.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOxwWLDsX6zOa5vH3b1Ow_2IH18cgbX4K5gj9dbAAzmYfBrGlIv7GVPOvMKlI-DtMza3nUlgzfpbclPHBl2dtDNXLTJERr9TAy6ZrN9_6kAEvYg0des4MrCcvDPiA0OeL2g0w0F_TzL3w/s320/Snowflake-1-3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282388282460089186" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmS5-d3xQbPDs2-HdJD7pvInW9SsN6C17HYadQIyLCXQvMQfU_9l1icaWx_HlDwGRTTBvEcW7kgBcIrV36ZXtODBkmZ7NTxKxoN74wBJBuaL1G5oDFy5VLarGBVpInpFDJ2BMUbcWuap4/s1600-h/Snowflake-1-4.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmS5-d3xQbPDs2-HdJD7pvInW9SsN6C17HYadQIyLCXQvMQfU_9l1icaWx_HlDwGRTTBvEcW7kgBcIrV36ZXtODBkmZ7NTxKxoN74wBJBuaL1G5oDFy5VLarGBVpInpFDJ2BMUbcWuap4/s320/Snowflake-1-4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282388276736356050" border="0" /></a><br />It was about at this point that I informed Morgan she was "cut off," but not before a photo with her brother, Cole.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FY4lnwAP7u74KjYG5I8VOxZmvhYNtkSxuK-KhkamYNJh__QT1nHKLPNy5ZZ_hQjVM4sKmRlM-SLmGuHExxfsL5kzzg1BLHz1CkhtYm5qZt4vT0QoEdKN6UQkYFUlTjYezIyIwk3_18E/s1600-h/Snowflake-1-5.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 295px; height: 197px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FY4lnwAP7u74KjYG5I8VOxZmvhYNtkSxuK-KhkamYNJh__QT1nHKLPNy5ZZ_hQjVM4sKmRlM-SLmGuHExxfsL5kzzg1BLHz1CkhtYm5qZt4vT0QoEdKN6UQkYFUlTjYezIyIwk3_18E/s320/Snowflake-1-5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282388277729285922" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgncWoJCfT5a682tsyI3sdLCxZg7thZJH-_BRrRLOCvR8VbQitG2JGpnz1o2IhY2TdVxVcBWsaIvnE8mvFPUkdcY86vfAsGsFU6YZ27F80vnVHZJWBb_3T7jBvy7vcXZURtidgtzOprGXk/s1600-h/Snowflake-1-7.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 295px; height: 197px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgncWoJCfT5a682tsyI3sdLCxZg7thZJH-_BRrRLOCvR8VbQitG2JGpnz1o2IhY2TdVxVcBWsaIvnE8mvFPUkdcY86vfAsGsFU6YZ27F80vnVHZJWBb_3T7jBvy7vcXZURtidgtzOprGXk/s320/Snowflake-1-7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282388006506427570" border="0" /></a><br />Let the silliness begin! You can only imagine the extent of what one can do with a candy cane, and the innappropriate things that these small children can now do with them. I'm pretty sure everyone was pointing at the neighbor who left his shade drawn as he emulated the dance moves from Footloose in the nude, but it could have been Santa. We'll just never know. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_47hSBbfY6WWTU0SvI2vxmon9dO2u-hbBRHDM08P9n2HNzNNVCg3radd-uSns89Iframp-aU33MTGDli-F5A8Zk55OrwnFbDTBTIQ2-M6Kk5o77nGDPvwxU-QLMf04mH6n7G8C47lAc/s1600-h/Snowflake-1-8.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_47hSBbfY6WWTU0SvI2vxmon9dO2u-hbBRHDM08P9n2HNzNNVCg3radd-uSns89Iframp-aU33MTGDli-F5A8Zk55OrwnFbDTBTIQ2-M6Kk5o77nGDPvwxU-QLMf04mH6n7G8C47lAc/s320/Snowflake-1-8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282388001972681666" border="0" /></a><br />Once everyone had calmed down, we were able to take a few family photos, some of which turned out surprisingly well considering the goofiness of the occasion, including this one of Steve, Charlette, Lynn and Kyle.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBtSmgLHFb53W2tQV5ym4zZOrEPkCCx4J91_tQywbjh0YXTrZE862Dvx45JOanu02XlCkUHO9yBBYTxRmNBnn6HwZqOaGk1fKiW_BSkE8BiH4O3oQLmeRvMxLQDRtNYQo0r-MGeHIihfI/s1600-h/Snowflake-1-9.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBtSmgLHFb53W2tQV5ym4zZOrEPkCCx4J91_tQywbjh0YXTrZE862Dvx45JOanu02XlCkUHO9yBBYTxRmNBnn6HwZqOaGk1fKiW_BSkE8BiH4O3oQLmeRvMxLQDRtNYQo0r-MGeHIihfI/s320/Snowflake-1-9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282387999349145826" border="0" /></a><br />How fucking cute is that? (Notice I used a curse word, because it is a picture of two adults.)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-T5gwTt-wW57nU0hfJWnvDVzNOJsCFTbifKFuye_Z_Z6zvTuNpTlAOPa3DPsG53ZHtgnadb2FQkg4czjiuMPWU8nKKkLSkiDTAKyX_uS2EpLtmU63NBG8nJd1NnXW5oApxDHaM2NR7qI/s1600-h/Snowflake-1-10.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 288px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-T5gwTt-wW57nU0hfJWnvDVzNOJsCFTbifKFuye_Z_Z6zvTuNpTlAOPa3DPsG53ZHtgnadb2FQkg4czjiuMPWU8nKKkLSkiDTAKyX_uS2EpLtmU63NBG8nJd1NnXW5oApxDHaM2NR7qI/s320/Snowflake-1-10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282387989742208210" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHxqXxKr1BEEdfRX-t33KzEhlCDMJ77g1TBl5mfnmzz5uxSLBBZglBYJW0uQSsR2-M4oTMJEvhyphenhyphen0h19wd_YhGFXlhdY1ZEggNki6RWN4uYU-OBJkfTd7cba0Z6Ef2w9zpGVM-xAVs4zgk/s1600-h/Snowflake-1-11.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 284px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHxqXxKr1BEEdfRX-t33KzEhlCDMJ77g1TBl5mfnmzz5uxSLBBZglBYJW0uQSsR2-M4oTMJEvhyphenhyphen0h19wd_YhGFXlhdY1ZEggNki6RWN4uYU-OBJkfTd7cba0Z6Ef2w9zpGVM-xAVs4zgk/s320/Snowflake-1-11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282387688444258450" border="0" /></a><br />How friggin' cute is that? (Notice... well, you get the fucking picture. Oops.) <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifngxQsml6gm6i1G6CjpR6egEVnuVZAwLrJa3ohoGASg3Pga258d4opkhDqA6IaA2Bgn4ouAuIzYtZMzuw8HREHxpAYLRFEJd7m1jp-5SNnOW7v8SbL0gHrJ7xJA71OGF3B0F0yM-XtnI/s1600-h/Snowflake-1-12.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifngxQsml6gm6i1G6CjpR6egEVnuVZAwLrJa3ohoGASg3Pga258d4opkhDqA6IaA2Bgn4ouAuIzYtZMzuw8HREHxpAYLRFEJd7m1jp-5SNnOW7v8SbL0gHrJ7xJA71OGF3B0F0yM-XtnI/s320/Snowflake-1-12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282387685660595986" border="0" /></a><br />Sometimes the Christmas spirit isn't really appropriate for young audiences.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWu-eRJh5BDGLGQULzi5GYKKvWCe3lHzoQ_Y_y2nFuU8TdEvFcQ7wmEUtJccz1XlsD8Inq-k_6ch-RgPCHI1caWEHCZOXVF13Lz0TPxDX-ZbjTZuqN31aBw3UkukxRIxw6icVqtw2UrqY/s1600-h/Snowflake-1-13.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWu-eRJh5BDGLGQULzi5GYKKvWCe3lHzoQ_Y_y2nFuU8TdEvFcQ7wmEUtJccz1XlsD8Inq-k_6ch-RgPCHI1caWEHCZOXVF13Lz0TPxDX-ZbjTZuqN31aBw3UkukxRIxw6icVqtw2UrqY/s320/Snowflake-1-13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282387678303282674" border="0" /></a><br />And the siblings, or four of them at least.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6RADA29V7U2aKxpyYA31Qn61Kqk2-nn_c8z-3QE7y0vyEBn1LTpLYAsXbGvDA1K0YEeHIF8rTz0bRqfFmeTjLbfSI-P4CiWKaQoMMqCjQvYLnv2aiswdax1ZCQuGyuyjoX1gDGExxXp4/s1600-h/Snowflake-1-15.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 294px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6RADA29V7U2aKxpyYA31Qn61Kqk2-nn_c8z-3QE7y0vyEBn1LTpLYAsXbGvDA1K0YEeHIF8rTz0bRqfFmeTjLbfSI-P4CiWKaQoMMqCjQvYLnv2aiswdax1ZCQuGyuyjoX1gDGExxXp4/s320/Snowflake-1-15.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282387671268421474" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOCy9FAREaK-v2sjQXR9wz0gJ0hxKgbBu71bWWTd7rRgZcdaVP_5hp0ZOcs3FoNbf0Yi-w4yMBi_Wqgkt9ZEbIxDNOfydctC8pTeKKABbeaNGmLVPXp5onnauTd_uu3f4l7pNyJYwKTZw/s1600-h/Snowflake-1-14.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 296px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOCy9FAREaK-v2sjQXR9wz0gJ0hxKgbBu71bWWTd7rRgZcdaVP_5hp0ZOcs3FoNbf0Yi-w4yMBi_Wqgkt9ZEbIxDNOfydctC8pTeKKABbeaNGmLVPXp5onnauTd_uu3f4l7pNyJYwKTZw/s320/Snowflake-1-14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282387676914327634" border="0" /></a><br />When will the cuteness end?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbZ5SqPwFt1bnyz_h5KI9hjRdzrIG0bhDkbLU9M7SW6R76UOt93u5pUGCZMhNL3hwROVvgZKlrfqlzvtthINX_1OsUYkVn3M38qJmeavSAbsLqh-DEusFiglUe_HaFjPyYuU90csInmqw/s1600-h/Snowflake-1-19.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 288px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbZ5SqPwFt1bnyz_h5KI9hjRdzrIG0bhDkbLU9M7SW6R76UOt93u5pUGCZMhNL3hwROVvgZKlrfqlzvtthINX_1OsUYkVn3M38qJmeavSAbsLqh-DEusFiglUe_HaFjPyYuU90csInmqw/s320/Snowflake-1-19.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282387325973231906" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI84R-gUyZOtkMMmVDRjqOa0EvX9LRUmxobV2g8H8GZYJjdbQ3KjuE8o2v3NVePM9o_9_e3UeBSCLZs230WU6JCsxx6pIDz2n4pGOUM8pf1sJGenDat_WjkkrzUjZK_SBbGoEJJYFi0iA/s1600-h/Snowflake-1-20.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 288px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI84R-gUyZOtkMMmVDRjqOa0EvX9LRUmxobV2g8H8GZYJjdbQ3KjuE8o2v3NVePM9o_9_e3UeBSCLZs230WU6JCsxx6pIDz2n4pGOUM8pf1sJGenDat_WjkkrzUjZK_SBbGoEJJYFi0iA/s320/Snowflake-1-20.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282387332961989938" border="0" /></a><br />They're called snowflakes, got it? <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyLUk63Li5xjirUiBPUQklnYPN9VxcPlhEqp34bTgQgBeQZLStyC-zY1TiD8Vqjdw7vFdUS_s7bVjxf_p8u6AftwbmPJ3s2TbF36m7CVwm1gDOIowb60jRrrWThERtnT8DOvD5bC0FuR8/s1600-h/Snowflake-1-18.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 189px; height: 126px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyLUk63Li5xjirUiBPUQklnYPN9VxcPlhEqp34bTgQgBeQZLStyC-zY1TiD8Vqjdw7vFdUS_s7bVjxf_p8u6AftwbmPJ3s2TbF36m7CVwm1gDOIowb60jRrrWThERtnT8DOvD5bC0FuR8/s320/Snowflake-1-18.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282387321273948962" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz40gz69EPLOM0rfrVG-pMXUxp9xeslmugG7iLgPaUgeV6_N4O5gutW0FQdRf15QlqsvB2HaCIEPIg8eVPm6s3nFuIEHHyxSCg16wXJ-X1c8Nyq2Wjm2HjQsemOdVRZhNudyxYcdG5dEM/s1600-h/Snowflake-1-17.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 189px; height: 126px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz40gz69EPLOM0rfrVG-pMXUxp9xeslmugG7iLgPaUgeV6_N4O5gutW0FQdRf15QlqsvB2HaCIEPIg8eVPm6s3nFuIEHHyxSCg16wXJ-X1c8Nyq2Wjm2HjQsemOdVRZhNudyxYcdG5dEM/s320/Snowflake-1-17.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282387320075764754" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsO12sWefB7ndzBGxEMEf-ySmlnNOun9ynldTmNl_5dwGuI2r3WwO2N4Mu73Jn0em6EgIyTLDz3iW5cVbD5xTreIrsrW8DHt_n7Wngjn0H2Y1KqM5Pp_SMqZzZpgPW_nf28cyy6j8hKhs/s1600-h/Snowflake-1-16.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 187px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsO12sWefB7ndzBGxEMEf-ySmlnNOun9ynldTmNl_5dwGuI2r3WwO2N4Mu73Jn0em6EgIyTLDz3iW5cVbD5xTreIrsrW8DHt_n7Wngjn0H2Y1KqM5Pp_SMqZzZpgPW_nf28cyy6j8hKhs/s320/Snowflake-1-16.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282387319072357874" border="0" /></a><br />As much fun as the costumes, decorations and silliness was, I want to thank my mother and my father for never, ever subjecting me to this as a child. As much as your parenting scarred me, at least the evidence remains on the inside, where I can stuff it deep inside my heart.<br /><br />Love to all, and happy holiday wishes...SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-23463486530773690922008-12-21T15:10:00.000-08:002008-12-21T15:18:56.645-08:00Yes, I Babysit TooBut seeing as how babysitting is not a very visual activity, I only have a couple photos of Sadie, and my favorite quote of the night from Trysten, who is six, to share with you.<br /><br />"Why do you need two lightsabers Trysten?" -Me<br />"Josh, I can't fight four lightsabers with one lightsaber, are you crazy?" -Trysten<br /><br />And Sadie, a relative cutie and a very photogenic subject.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1UPeH2T_EMRLtOZ9fzZ0559dnnfQ_fvwFRuKgYuM2WdWPHMtXulxTVGWp4cHMaq9DW8wK5sBE2TJpAfWbtce_-D0C-QWoNWV-1l8OE5hWzvihai04bQNy5gAcl12_zg24P2kwtsMoiQo/s1600-h/Sadie-1-2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 191px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1UPeH2T_EMRLtOZ9fzZ0559dnnfQ_fvwFRuKgYuM2WdWPHMtXulxTVGWp4cHMaq9DW8wK5sBE2TJpAfWbtce_-D0C-QWoNWV-1l8OE5hWzvihai04bQNy5gAcl12_zg24P2kwtsMoiQo/s320/Sadie-1-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282385803044022306" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1mtIiEr92brGVUhiZ33tcVOkTIz-3J09My8rc5PmpUsb9bkKgKgyQ6zPQ7PnHHe0LojXoIJUzVFYrnR9B0ANEBj7xHzTWFhq4-X71MTEUbJSo4X1TCCMgb6Sle87GWK4xFAXISJoJdZU/s1600-h/Sadie-1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 191px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1mtIiEr92brGVUhiZ33tcVOkTIz-3J09My8rc5PmpUsb9bkKgKgyQ6zPQ7PnHHe0LojXoIJUzVFYrnR9B0ANEBj7xHzTWFhq4-X71MTEUbJSo4X1TCCMgb6Sle87GWK4xFAXISJoJdZU/s320/Sadie-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282385796994289218" border="0" /></a>SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-91879748212939401882008-12-11T16:28:00.001-08:002008-12-11T16:33:27.306-08:00Final(s) Week(s)I have completed my first final of the semester for Research Methods, which was much much easier than I would have expected (as always). Tonight is my Media Law final, which is open-book, closed-note and for the midterm, I set the curve with the next closest person five or six points behind me. I imagine I will do just fine thank you. <br /><br />At the present moment I have a 10-minute presentation to prepare for Friday morning, 161 58" Plasma Televisions to process through my store by Wednesday, a promotional give-away at two local independent grocers to manage (which includes two-weeks of free newspaper and radio ads for my company), one small custom install project and one very large custom install project to manage, two finals next week, Christmas shopping for 20 persons, Christmas shopping for myself, a new place to find to move in to, a cat that can't stop licking himself until he bleeds, and a nasty habit of resorting to cigarettes in times of stress. <br /><br />The point of all of this? Don't expect me to blog. Don't ask me to blog. Don't ask me to do anything unless it involves me and a massage. I love you all, except for you, and you know who you are.SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-72487831576061699982008-12-08T00:40:00.000-08:002008-12-08T00:53:43.747-08:00So this was a little different...I am constantly inspired by Mike's cooking, and each time I have a new recipe at his house, I attempt my own version of it at home. Instead of the Albacore tuna (which my grocery shop did not have) I tried a Corvina Sea Bass, which I had made once before at Mike's when he attacked his own finger. I pan cooked the fish in a little oil after salting and peppering the flesh for 3 minutes per side. I then added a half cup of white wine, and as it cooked off, I tossed in a small bit of butter and some sliced shallots, then covered the pan. The effect I had in mind was moistening and flavoring the fish, which it did little of either. A better method would have been to sear the fish, then either cover it in the pan with the wine or transfer it to a small dish in the oven, but I did not. I found the fish to be dry and somewhat flavorless, although the resulting sauce certainly helped.<br /><br />For the pasta, I created my version of Mike's tapenade, only it wasn't as I forgot to pick up the olives. Instead I oven roasted bell peppers, tomatoes and garlic, then peeled each and combined them in a bowl with the juices from the hollowed out tomatoes. I added basil, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, soy sauce and a bold red wine to taste, then placed in the freezer to cool. And finally, the asparagus, which required a bit of olive oil, lemon juice and salt and pepper. Bake in the oven at 400º for five minutes or so, and you're done!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsTRkdBgfuSUvqrJkVawhyi1j7jm7kUkVb05qYFBaXGu98cf2nFLD9nmaxm4tc3Y1TJkP7pQUHZqCkIx6wpXDdyppvKL-cP4FFOwO1bJyGvu__p879GQ25Defh__NWQHTfCxx6Bm_fmGM/s1600-h/DinDin-2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 291px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsTRkdBgfuSUvqrJkVawhyi1j7jm7kUkVb05qYFBaXGu98cf2nFLD9nmaxm4tc3Y1TJkP7pQUHZqCkIx6wpXDdyppvKL-cP4FFOwO1bJyGvu__p879GQ25Defh__NWQHTfCxx6Bm_fmGM/s320/DinDin-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277338130004820850" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3L9tPSZ-jlSLEc0VRoBfudp-0t2rjt8pepAaguBUUWsMqKsP9p9eeq55v35o01I2DUkMrlOWaOyDJuWTJTVoZ7WEtgabRs4e15hlXNeUoRz49jXx2oR6M-YnTbENLi-ehVlgszmeDLg0/s1600-h/DinDin.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 292px; height: 195px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3L9tPSZ-jlSLEc0VRoBfudp-0t2rjt8pepAaguBUUWsMqKsP9p9eeq55v35o01I2DUkMrlOWaOyDJuWTJTVoZ7WEtgabRs4e15hlXNeUoRz49jXx2oR6M-YnTbENLi-ehVlgszmeDLg0/s320/DinDin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277338133721183474" border="0" /></a><br />The pasta was actually quite good, as was the asparagus, but again, the sea bass, not so much. However, my neighbor found it quite delicious and assured me she "licked" every last morsel off the plate. So maybe my food is that good, and my taste buds are not. I still don't trust her. This could be a much better meal.SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-71500943929594282652008-12-08T00:09:00.000-08:002008-12-08T00:53:34.628-08:00Our First Cal Game!Despite Mike's many efforts to invite me to a Cal game, it took two seasons until I could finally attend, and even then, it was the last game of the season, against 0-11 Washington. We took Ruby with us to her very first Cal game, and thus we are inextricably linked, not only by blood, but more importantly, Cal football.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzzpVPAHx6c1M3fLQWgzjlx8YAAOYnPVCA9Z2l8AXsI3Xf-hmt7l8l4kQPmsUSoUFMXzdXhU2B4n7G3Eth7Th_NNDRHycFLr2Uh765o12d4jI7LQ-CXRfaO1xD0GTj1kIue_aZ4g0DO60/s1600-h/CAL.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzzpVPAHx6c1M3fLQWgzjlx8YAAOYnPVCA9Z2l8AXsI3Xf-hmt7l8l4kQPmsUSoUFMXzdXhU2B4n7G3Eth7Th_NNDRHycFLr2Uh765o12d4jI7LQ-CXRfaO1xD0GTj1kIue_aZ4g0DO60/s320/CAL.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277331104096889618" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDLdpdWLYi8iR4ezzvwN_6vmRtUw2a3gW7-wrEVkLcxtslzwZ7VQTA0e9Trzlhwf7komOTnjEJxRwn9yp8BqTLEL0Iy2daj978zwV9fObJb1mU8JPoMwxuzM0KyH8zkxmWLXVoFU3jzj8/s1600-h/CAL-2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 284px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDLdpdWLYi8iR4ezzvwN_6vmRtUw2a3gW7-wrEVkLcxtslzwZ7VQTA0e9Trzlhwf7komOTnjEJxRwn9yp8BqTLEL0Iy2daj978zwV9fObJb1mU8JPoMwxuzM0KyH8zkxmWLXVoFU3jzj8/s320/CAL-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277331105399852930" border="0" /></a><br />After a 4 and out to begin the first half, Washington punted to Cal, and on Cal's second play, Best ripped off a 60-yard run for a touchdown. For those of you unaware of the final score, the game continued at this pace until Washington broke out a firehouse and showed Cal that while they could not play football, they knew how to cross a river if nothing else.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWBrhhOi_25K4VvDSwCQTj4fL6RSkuyjtGMgQYd4Jn-EaIhRDxlXiwzoS23L0kVWC_LxuBgtgAEDLIo9XxX9IZcuo-rnbrNLw-l3MhEH7H6H4qy2qrpZARihqGo6ER3-Sx87YkdiZI13Q/s1600-h/CAL-3.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWBrhhOi_25K4VvDSwCQTj4fL6RSkuyjtGMgQYd4Jn-EaIhRDxlXiwzoS23L0kVWC_LxuBgtgAEDLIo9XxX9IZcuo-rnbrNLw-l3MhEH7H6H4qy2qrpZARihqGo6ER3-Sx87YkdiZI13Q/s320/CAL-3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277331107242595858" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtrI1GDGAOMYx_lvIVN8fPvCyrOfu2lVVSMy6ooFef1xFGYjdCDUoLQY4e8QoKlCKEPBkWjnueBPP6N19giT3gXyvsUaUY3_xS2NRw1JskVVZtjOzYfwfltmD87qLgAFAbsmwUZGa5-Qw/s1600-h/CAL-4.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtrI1GDGAOMYx_lvIVN8fPvCyrOfu2lVVSMy6ooFef1xFGYjdCDUoLQY4e8QoKlCKEPBkWjnueBPP6N19giT3gXyvsUaUY3_xS2NRw1JskVVZtjOzYfwfltmD87qLgAFAbsmwUZGa5-Qw/s320/CAL-4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277331116995036050" border="0" /></a><br />I intended to bring out the full compliment of photography gear for the game, only to forget the battery packs I had charged the night before. Fortunately, there was a point-and-shoot I was able to make use of to at least have a few momentos of the event.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBPd3vbgsPCJN17XebbKw7kokAgxbT60U3hUmnXww8p9m2BIF1O57KOSEJ7L39pBKaIzQsxUdKnyUNnZL8KvwL24hW8mJLq3Q3leOG5rc0Os-3sB0R7i-pWPoopHNbBUMxQiO4AHmtz_M/s1600-h/CAL-6.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 283px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBPd3vbgsPCJN17XebbKw7kokAgxbT60U3hUmnXww8p9m2BIF1O57KOSEJ7L39pBKaIzQsxUdKnyUNnZL8KvwL24hW8mJLq3Q3leOG5rc0Os-3sB0R7i-pWPoopHNbBUMxQiO4AHmtz_M/s320/CAL-6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277330259433591250" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIup8Jd45mC8YZNykY61JI_1euIYGSBkEUMa2YU_XMnLk_RHHWdX3qp-Zk9zUDQhOnZ4udYvYbVV4irgJf9RsnSvOR0VwQ9-T66z5ozBbsFxNPGZQoo4vjXpuif3vuyB6UAM6QKRqBLzc/s1600-h/CAL-5.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIup8Jd45mC8YZNykY61JI_1euIYGSBkEUMa2YU_XMnLk_RHHWdX3qp-Zk9zUDQhOnZ4udYvYbVV4irgJf9RsnSvOR0VwQ9-T66z5ozBbsFxNPGZQoo4vjXpuif3vuyB6UAM6QKRqBLzc/s320/CAL-5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277330257026759362" border="0" /></a><br />The day was beautiful after many days of foggy mornings and overcast afternoons, which did not leave us well prepared to keep Ruby out of the sun, much less ourselves. Although the canons that sounded when Cal scored a touchdown (which was quite often) did not seem to faze her, by the end of the first half, Ruby was over it.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSIFWIP5qEeMGV5JVlAxvo_tL-a9JBkHOExQM445h6cPorEtWVDzYGQu2vS9e7LWV2sAeUL81zYXrfBReZtdck2PTz1WhAbUEgv6chW7arUAvRiKaP1EI8TBY3QTaw1pIQgEbsRCWH9AY/s1600-h/CAL-9.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 323px; height: 241px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSIFWIP5qEeMGV5JVlAxvo_tL-a9JBkHOExQM445h6cPorEtWVDzYGQu2vS9e7LWV2sAeUL81zYXrfBReZtdck2PTz1WhAbUEgv6chW7arUAvRiKaP1EI8TBY3QTaw1pIQgEbsRCWH9AY/s320/CAL-9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277330269500562930" border="0" /></a><br />So... we found a nice spot on the side of the road, and happiness returned. It's always the simple things in life, isn't it?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9e2Jrwh7itCJnjm-yQXE6BhyphenhyphenXAKj-1yRapniYC3QP77Bwarm70OvyvXnBrEgItgEdwZ4UsDG486OpV5niS8-tboeJ-pmbmcghHo6PjBRijrxmLbxERxaBFs3eWFeKcwRPOQ5ILCNR4hk/s1600-h/CAL-7.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 288px; height: 216px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9e2Jrwh7itCJnjm-yQXE6BhyphenhyphenXAKj-1yRapniYC3QP77Bwarm70OvyvXnBrEgItgEdwZ4UsDG486OpV5niS8-tboeJ-pmbmcghHo6PjBRijrxmLbxERxaBFs3eWFeKcwRPOQ5ILCNR4hk/s320/CAL-7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277330259511481938" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_SIMEjrqudCRz3fHKLnT6Erq8_GPqonRSuuK6tfPfDJYchXNyxx82NSChvZy7aC3nq1gPmU8c3y5Gn7LwpHhy__hsCOp5Zt2HqmmyL9WP8csTbNbCbUkGkN651FrMe2lRBnf7c2oyffk/s1600-h/CAL-8.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 289px; height: 217px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_SIMEjrqudCRz3fHKLnT6Erq8_GPqonRSuuK6tfPfDJYchXNyxx82NSChvZy7aC3nq1gPmU8c3y5Gn7LwpHhy__hsCOp5Zt2HqmmyL9WP8csTbNbCbUkGkN651FrMe2lRBnf7c2oyffk/s320/CAL-8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277330266145803250" border="0" /></a><br />Ruby has learned what the shutter sounds like on a camera, and each time the button is pressed, she has a new pose to give you. How friggin' (notice I didn't swear because it's a picture of a baby) cute is that?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijMGd-3APsJw57PCUItx_NaS2yy7nJKTPtlEds-fGlvBDFGpVtErdTGBbMjJMHhAvgZjuDUqnGGYP2UpKTtIOfiVyCpyAZCQtC9QuSHWTiF5SKzxIMLEeMX72_oDD_1wek_Ea3uL45G8M/s1600-h/CAL-10.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 296px; height: 222px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijMGd-3APsJw57PCUItx_NaS2yy7nJKTPtlEds-fGlvBDFGpVtErdTGBbMjJMHhAvgZjuDUqnGGYP2UpKTtIOfiVyCpyAZCQtC9QuSHWTiF5SKzxIMLEeMX72_oDD_1wek_Ea3uL45G8M/s320/CAL-10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277329200097424306" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLilHWvNCcXa70vgTAPy6H3K5K2AxHXc_sHJp7Xf62X36pSUfM7DZ3gDuurqc3GfSWwkwhzcNC7XFm7uvARDhonEYEswZEdTYx2p0dcRh44ZH3mPjCKsUCgLejq2ECh55ddc2t6cAhg6E/s1600-h/CAL-11.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 296px; height: 222px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLilHWvNCcXa70vgTAPy6H3K5K2AxHXc_sHJp7Xf62X36pSUfM7DZ3gDuurqc3GfSWwkwhzcNC7XFm7uvARDhonEYEswZEdTYx2p0dcRh44ZH3mPjCKsUCgLejq2ECh55ddc2t6cAhg6E/s320/CAL-11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277329196035126450" border="0" /></a><br />Awww...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGk771xoiHvn_nPnkyoVBzROaPIQSd6PXmprfOsCIraztcf042pHwzrhyphenhyphenRS4zfu76ML3aKJi7Q5tPuBe29I6HGBgfCESqS10KRIlehiNLGUkgjdkqxlzGqUrYqKr6Jj0MJFsWRFpgirrY/s1600-h/CAL-12.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGk771xoiHvn_nPnkyoVBzROaPIQSd6PXmprfOsCIraztcf042pHwzrhyphenhyphenRS4zfu76ML3aKJi7Q5tPuBe29I6HGBgfCESqS10KRIlehiNLGUkgjdkqxlzGqUrYqKr6Jj0MJFsWRFpgirrY/s320/CAL-12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277329190933791602" border="0" /></a><br />Ruby with her Daddy!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDre8czweqrhJ1f9J1b4CHzvl0CmBYYSmlVAwoXI0xop2rfmpYsaRJfh1fGnTn4gFT5753qkVchhmyircvlQYg9zJECUIoHgEFL5GWlXFiBwZUhT2zjsSZkIYkFTwXRtncS3zZbUGS694/s1600-h/CAL-13.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 294px; height: 220px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDre8czweqrhJ1f9J1b4CHzvl0CmBYYSmlVAwoXI0xop2rfmpYsaRJfh1fGnTn4gFT5753qkVchhmyircvlQYg9zJECUIoHgEFL5GWlXFiBwZUhT2zjsSZkIYkFTwXRtncS3zZbUGS694/s320/CAL-13.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277329187806177170" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj98I23Dhm7lQo5ZJ82sbgFp1V12e8_8G9jADoyomZceZ2Tbxpk_qG_0YvIAMlr-VRTc0Jm0hgu7T-aoJyxLVaF1P3-22eAq_9bOBMOJ7DpF3f_sD2vEa0N9ouogJnXNRJ1TxGn8zXjbhI/s1600-h/CAL-14.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 293px; height: 220px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj98I23Dhm7lQo5ZJ82sbgFp1V12e8_8G9jADoyomZceZ2Tbxpk_qG_0YvIAMlr-VRTc0Jm0hgu7T-aoJyxLVaF1P3-22eAq_9bOBMOJ7DpF3f_sD2vEa0N9ouogJnXNRJ1TxGn8zXjbhI/s320/CAL-14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277329184312059794" border="0" /></a><br />Dinner that night was fabulous: grilled Albacore tuna (5 minutes per side) with a pepper, tomato and olive tapenade (apparently the definition of tapende is an olive base, but I thought I would mention the olives anyway, which you will understand from my next post) and a side of wheat pasta in a marinara sauce. Nicely done Mike. And to finish the evening, a concert just for Ruby, although I question the inclusion of, "The world is out to get me" in the playlist.SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-48394835851497799672008-12-03T17:31:00.001-08:002008-12-03T17:45:30.242-08:00Sometimes Dinner is Just StrangeI enjoy cooking and I enjoy trying new things. When combined, the results can be amazing, satisfactory or in this case, a little strange. I picked up some shrimp because I like shrimp. Simple, right? I'm thinking a little stir-fry, broccolini (baby broccoli), peppers, celery, red onions, sesame seeds, mushrooms and of course, the shrimp. Throw it all on a bed of sushi rice, and I'm done! Or am I.... I also had some prosciutto (entirely too much in fact, it was on sale), and thought, what the heck, wrap the shrimp and broil it! <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq5gM6dmm8F1uTMUEQIKAuNzLGNctntLWqpjYy3WDXiwLrV5voXFeC1MHoNGbGniyOnv1jO1WUz8JqmYGqDvC7NvsY1QYmwWLPb5j6wwMUqJ9222vtmsO21oRiUzDHmhIBQXtv5arSu2U/s1600-h/Shrimp.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq5gM6dmm8F1uTMUEQIKAuNzLGNctntLWqpjYy3WDXiwLrV5voXFeC1MHoNGbGniyOnv1jO1WUz8JqmYGqDvC7NvsY1QYmwWLPb5j6wwMUqJ9222vtmsO21oRiUzDHmhIBQXtv5arSu2U/s320/Shrimp.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275741865556230898" border="0" /></a><br />But wait... does prosciutto and Asian stir-fry really work together? Perhaps not. Forget the sesame seeds and the secret Asian stir-fry sauce then, we're going to stick with white wine, lemon and butter. And I did.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwVoJ3eZkcBJZlSm4euYXYZbXP8kQj7aceoWG9COeHTEstJkF3OEmoYUh0aRYnkdnlBUUH3F2fbBToDQiHGy60YMqPjxHPBCYE6a78fcNWThZTH6ubYf3Uhouaisnm_jghyphenhyphen_xSk4iD824/s1600-h/Peppers.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 288px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwVoJ3eZkcBJZlSm4euYXYZbXP8kQj7aceoWG9COeHTEstJkF3OEmoYUh0aRYnkdnlBUUH3F2fbBToDQiHGy60YMqPjxHPBCYE6a78fcNWThZTH6ubYf3Uhouaisnm_jghyphenhyphen_xSk4iD824/s320/Peppers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275741876016978642" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlkNvkY_4qp2mq5gYk4ZylSrgMotI1yoRZ8yTrUdjnYVXD_R_-V2Hv8tvFbPAbZ1mukrWI_qGbrFIRC-QDIBLpJZ061UHWyLHj0yxDovkLuklyZX_sYb4P6aCSDJI1Lbj1Q_forBUEKbg/s1600-h/Everything.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 288px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlkNvkY_4qp2mq5gYk4ZylSrgMotI1yoRZ8yTrUdjnYVXD_R_-V2Hv8tvFbPAbZ1mukrWI_qGbrFIRC-QDIBLpJZ061UHWyLHj0yxDovkLuklyZX_sYb4P6aCSDJI1Lbj1Q_forBUEKbg/s320/Everything.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275741870628908418" border="0" /></a><br />Fry up some tri-color peppers (notice a pattern? I use these in much of cooking, probably should find other veggies to fix on...), add the broccolini, the celery and the red onions, and while not stir-fried (I am wok-less) a similar effect.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQuGuK3OWuVSdHiDrScGJJ3XA9r1n5mtGCXEQIW73aetQ5DRhEQhjvUCSWlIjvikdEDRnSKQXu4CVUNif-672yfCB0jWnUYD6LydTP3KPzB7BlMaJfHF7c2xWyNOovnV51Zc084kUomos/s1600-h/Sauce.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 297px; height: 198px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQuGuK3OWuVSdHiDrScGJJ3XA9r1n5mtGCXEQIW73aetQ5DRhEQhjvUCSWlIjvikdEDRnSKQXu4CVUNif-672yfCB0jWnUYD6LydTP3KPzB7BlMaJfHF7c2xWyNOovnV51Zc084kUomos/s320/Sauce.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275741879598127602" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdiADhTq9lCwQS4dkYuiK7MQcErFH4hZf1ftjBAATiY1BVSziOxMuBR58yx4dkYGw93dNzaHzRoXjmlh6v79it_g4dc6x65qw_Jbu5dVXE82ldC4CcYvqSwNGylb_Fy_MYegdCCg9dp_4/s1600-h/Finished.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 297px; height: 198px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdiADhTq9lCwQS4dkYuiK7MQcErFH4hZf1ftjBAATiY1BVSziOxMuBR58yx4dkYGw93dNzaHzRoXjmlh6v79it_g4dc6x65qw_Jbu5dVXE82ldC4CcYvqSwNGylb_Fy_MYegdCCg9dp_4/s320/Finished.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275741869952416434" border="0" /></a><br />Then a sauce. Add the lemon first (entirely too much in my case), then some white wine as the lemon is absorbed by the veggies, and once the wine cooks off, throw in some butter for good measure, and finally, salt and pepper. Plate the vegtables around a packed cup of rice, a few skewers of proscuitto-encrusted shrimp and call it a night. <br /><br />I cannot say that this dish was good. By itself, the rice was good, as were the veggies (although, again, entirely too much lemon). The shrimp were honestly overcooked, and while still tasty by themselves, the entire dish as a whole was, as my title states, just strange. I don't recommend this one. Fortunately, because I made it, it was easier to stomach than if someone else had served it to me. The sweat of my labor makes it taste that much better, but if you ever make this for me, I will apologize in advance for quietly slipping the food into a napkin when you're not looking and excusing myself to use the restroom.SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-51851082492027490742008-12-02T16:34:00.001-08:002008-12-03T13:10:24.555-08:00My Work, Start to FinishI can explain what it is I do for work, but without pictures, I still have a hard time doing it any justice. My latest project is simple enough on paper, but the scale of it all makes it a little more interesting. The home is gorgeous all around, and sits up high atop a hill, all by its lonesome. On the road there...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-6V115xSSicsmJAAgZXnNZFeZWLhf0F-35p6upR05KrbHYcrWjFezxNpo0z8SYcoili75LQh1utaNPgRFgE0qVVEy_MP7k1gJ2maWICRAD6R0bT6H1z_s1BLkc8t4td8AoQl2eX2dshk/s1600-h/JS-2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-6V115xSSicsmJAAgZXnNZFeZWLhf0F-35p6upR05KrbHYcrWjFezxNpo0z8SYcoili75LQh1utaNPgRFgE0qVVEy_MP7k1gJ2maWICRAD6R0bT6H1z_s1BLkc8t4td8AoQl2eX2dshk/s320/JS-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275356711072728034" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNtSctgNHOlUpzA42vD6QuHRP-GZZo3Me369mo0-Y5vmZw1cyKCbwEXM3BDnJ4ZkCDZZagOpGiM7bjAn_V9hdmqi6XPLHMHJB5WEWXJRoDFLfblq5I_TFD511ek9LVsooA_Z6Ueq1weWk/s1600-h/JS.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNtSctgNHOlUpzA42vD6QuHRP-GZZo3Me369mo0-Y5vmZw1cyKCbwEXM3BDnJ4ZkCDZZagOpGiM7bjAn_V9hdmqi6XPLHMHJB5WEWXJRoDFLfblq5I_TFD511ek9LVsooA_Z6Ueq1weWk/s320/JS.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275356714810891570" border="0" /></a><br />The more and more I consider actually killing one of these animals for food, the less appealing it ultimately seems. I think if we get to hunt them, they get to hunt us. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj98NwvjtK7pw_KHQzha8k-KhP28r1UtSDlUMInptm4hafnmXMqfsALfaiBrbkSOmpL8b1c-hwPyXUpk-qx-3zdpXo4n30JHItKqU7eBTPddfwSTqMOWQOelpkLhGYPpaskExGRfDpQpwE/s1600-h/JS-4.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 191px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj98NwvjtK7pw_KHQzha8k-KhP28r1UtSDlUMInptm4hafnmXMqfsALfaiBrbkSOmpL8b1c-hwPyXUpk-qx-3zdpXo4n30JHItKqU7eBTPddfwSTqMOWQOelpkLhGYPpaskExGRfDpQpwE/s320/JS-4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275356709212342050" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX46_nWRCKF-RVniMDpqTEeF0F9QHh-R26OM7kqKm4BJ5OpmIDEhjuJnU6IzBT749bD_WYkQSWFpeGe8P282YsUoWrbnAda01BB_65YDT6TxNfLj2M_DaLPkLPBt-TmDbqn9fzofaDzd0/s1600-h/JS-5.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 288px; height: 191px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX46_nWRCKF-RVniMDpqTEeF0F9QHh-R26OM7kqKm4BJ5OpmIDEhjuJnU6IzBT749bD_WYkQSWFpeGe8P282YsUoWrbnAda01BB_65YDT6TxNfLj2M_DaLPkLPBt-TmDbqn9fzofaDzd0/s320/JS-5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275356706571014786" border="0" /></a><br />On the left, we have the game room. Here we are working with one of my favorite cabinet makers on a floor-to-ceiling piece that will feature at its center a 119" diagonal projection screen, three very impressive speakers hidden directly behind the screen (which has micro-perforations to allow the sound to escape), and a bass speaker inside the enclosed cabinet below. Rear speakers are mounted inside the angled ceiling at the back of the room, and the projector about 18' from the front of the room, hanging from a two-foot pole. <br /><br />On the right is the family room, where I will be incorporating a 55" LED LCD Television from Samsung with a 5.1 system (In-Wall / In-Ceiling speakers), while all of the equipment will be located in the Master Bedroom Closet down the hall. Each system in the house is controlled by a universal remote that can operate from anywhere on the property.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZtzOldblJDJwHBIE-gl0q5siK17IGRmaB7frYABTF5WPPdAedpHyuxnqjj09aFPIcJXxZtF66n_guYyPBIitD5VQ_dxOMXifUyEMGv7FH42GEwH-8y_a9SU82GcdET-9r_YwAPsiO10c/s1600-h/JS-8.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 279px; height: 186px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZtzOldblJDJwHBIE-gl0q5siK17IGRmaB7frYABTF5WPPdAedpHyuxnqjj09aFPIcJXxZtF66n_guYyPBIitD5VQ_dxOMXifUyEMGv7FH42GEwH-8y_a9SU82GcdET-9r_YwAPsiO10c/s320/JS-8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275640287758572946" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm07QUTk7I9v2fby3B4IOvi1ue6qGlEIwttHC1j8KhHXOnKeAVZDnzbmfcqRKlP0Y14eLYdrZ5ZG_ua39j2O7R6ZNzcUnNJHfDupblagaiDLTwHzExm4a2eD4Cq3daUNgtGKOnRo0J50c/s1600-h/JS-7.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 278px; height: 186px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm07QUTk7I9v2fby3B4IOvi1ue6qGlEIwttHC1j8KhHXOnKeAVZDnzbmfcqRKlP0Y14eLYdrZ5ZG_ua39j2O7R6ZNzcUnNJHfDupblagaiDLTwHzExm4a2eD4Cq3daUNgtGKOnRo0J50c/s320/JS-7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275640280871599362" border="0" /></a><br />And the Master Bedroom, my personal favorite for this project. On the left is the custom headboard for a California King (of course), atop which will sit a 1080P front projector, likely from Epson (one of the better manufacturers). Directly across from the headboard is these fine French doors on the right, with a 13.5" trim piece separating the doors from the windows up top. On that trim will be mounted a motorized, tensioned drop-down screen, likely about 9' in diaganol measurement (still need to sort through what will fit) along with a center channel speaker. Both the screen case and the speaker will be encased in a valance to hide both pieces when not in use. Can you imagine? Press a button from bed and within seconds you have your own movie theatre in the bedroom? <br /><br />In addition to those three systems, the house will feature speakers in every room, with the ability to pipe music from the internet, the satellite dish and the 400-Disc CD Changer to any room at any time they choose, all controlled by multiple universal remotes. As far as complexity goes, again, this is a relatively basic system, which actually makes the system more complex to set up and to operate, unless you know how to do so properly. I do. So when all is finished, I will have some before and after photos, and you can see how this is all done!SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-80889314650680452112008-11-27T22:10:00.001-08:002008-12-21T12:49:17.950-08:00Thanksgiving 2008I am fortunate to have four families (or is it five?), the blood family I was born into it (and had no choice about) which is now split in two (well, almost three really), the Fausch's, the Manning's and the Travers. Then we have my NA family, also not really a choice, but if it was, it would be an excellent choice (as is the blood family of course). And finally, the McNamee's, my adoptive family, which includes three older sisters, two older brothers, a mother and a father, an uncle, dozens of cousins and many more I don't even know of yet. For Thanksgiving this year, I chose the McNamee's, namely because they are local and I only have the one day off of work, and also because these people prepare more food than a family ten times its size could ever hope to consume. (It doesn't hurt that they are a great deal of fun and very loving as well.) The result? Leftovers, enough to feed me for the next week, as long as I have an affinity for mashed potatoes, yams, turkey, brussel sprouts, broccoli casserole, green beans, carrots, pie and a number of other foods I have already forgotten about.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhDbSc2JmS_WF4oriIBy_bAlDbxG8edFq1kfS2IAcj2JDHteZt2U0RhTr-vyUZSBlB3V54Ry7Kyp9qbDYXWACsiZbsF1f-iX1xAGLvwB5bFr2u4mi7n4sC_4hRMveUf9UiBuadY_aZWXU/s1600-h/TG.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhDbSc2JmS_WF4oriIBy_bAlDbxG8edFq1kfS2IAcj2JDHteZt2U0RhTr-vyUZSBlB3V54Ry7Kyp9qbDYXWACsiZbsF1f-iX1xAGLvwB5bFr2u4mi7n4sC_4hRMveUf9UiBuadY_aZWXU/s320/TG.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273587832895986418" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBG5dSveUvyBnO5q54LTchG0sJD2p05HTLIlw7FWxTXQ0HfzFAujnhtlPNGeEy-GezCjLjTrPu_HstifiHjPc-k1dsOT6VcnIEaXhDJSWgwi88oBvWgCaPtmdjSfltAdeSng5ubNW_YoI/s1600-h/TG-2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBG5dSveUvyBnO5q54LTchG0sJD2p05HTLIlw7FWxTXQ0HfzFAujnhtlPNGeEy-GezCjLjTrPu_HstifiHjPc-k1dsOT6VcnIEaXhDJSWgwi88oBvWgCaPtmdjSfltAdeSng5ubNW_YoI/s320/TG-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273587829446652674" border="0" /></a><br />Steve, who is married to Lynn, one of my sisters, preparing one of three birds (20lbs plus) for today's meal. (It will be easier for you to remember each sibling when I tell you that each's name begins with the letter "L," as in Link, Lee, Lynn, Lorie and Lisa.)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLpdRJBnvbqrY95aI5ifo2o5U83kfujPavSb7fcAOgFWfu6-ps_hszQ4yVLyhWLp2fCLnP__iDTScNGTFNc-7bz89nplmQUipZt7JbsrweIkMCaLFsIACDQD3CmE78oMJcch6_ha7ysDQ/s1600-h/TG-4.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 292px; height: 195px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLpdRJBnvbqrY95aI5ifo2o5U83kfujPavSb7fcAOgFWfu6-ps_hszQ4yVLyhWLp2fCLnP__iDTScNGTFNc-7bz89nplmQUipZt7JbsrweIkMCaLFsIACDQD3CmE78oMJcch6_ha7ysDQ/s320/TG-4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273587830311816146" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd4Zf2f1D0luMCZaL4XFaDuXrhuYGaMGjfAVqvLuuBpZps4R2XvcSE8s78uf7JWpxB0ApS1E12YyCXnQPsnvXxrsu4ghFUuMomI3sGPxDD5nKhQdGl6FKVZnkKTGbyt5zti3teo_iYhus/s1600-h/TG-3.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 292px; height: 195px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd4Zf2f1D0luMCZaL4XFaDuXrhuYGaMGjfAVqvLuuBpZps4R2XvcSE8s78uf7JWpxB0ApS1E12YyCXnQPsnvXxrsu4ghFUuMomI3sGPxDD5nKhQdGl6FKVZnkKTGbyt5zti3teo_iYhus/s320/TG-3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273587825530656482" border="0" /></a><br />And the dinner spread. In addition to what you see, there was enough food to replenish this supply three times over. I'm not joking.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGY_Dg_Fgbf9P4_2RKwaYjyTdXUgA0LtTJ9aUwVSEZDyeX7E_6SA-yVNmWZjfW2tkgM0g7IslsP9pdSoouSvLTftHTMEN61G5TuegGih1mS_sUyYh7b1oRrGX1VHsyoLA1sPiCei9i8u4/s1600-h/TG-9.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGY_Dg_Fgbf9P4_2RKwaYjyTdXUgA0LtTJ9aUwVSEZDyeX7E_6SA-yVNmWZjfW2tkgM0g7IslsP9pdSoouSvLTftHTMEN61G5TuegGih1mS_sUyYh7b1oRrGX1VHsyoLA1sPiCei9i8u4/s320/TG-9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273587456585111410" border="0" /></a><br />And the desert table, which again, could be replenished at least three times. The table was actually too small to display everything that was baked and bought for today's dinner.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqm4oEMjhiraqlqCCQ4mJxoliqW5NuoPopJmI0ydi3ZG2FIwHTgQmWcNoQZRnV9f8b4HCH_DXehAhceZoYo1SkbCExO84WRgWR_Q9unbaaYABwwRKrljgQ5kSm6ESwwJVVjTcnqsVqxnc/s1600-h/TG-7.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 292px; height: 195px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqm4oEMjhiraqlqCCQ4mJxoliqW5NuoPopJmI0ydi3ZG2FIwHTgQmWcNoQZRnV9f8b4HCH_DXehAhceZoYo1SkbCExO84WRgWR_Q9unbaaYABwwRKrljgQ5kSm6ESwwJVVjTcnqsVqxnc/s320/TG-7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273587447958430850" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgNCORn7Beagv1padXmEErKi_sSm9OQsa2t7gUnI4hGURh_CU_1Fi1BVd2eortCNugSInx2PYF7N2bdA1fSOaEeaCwgbdE75BXFU8LdvxF5TRBo0UrTqp53wOylPGI3PmzeJ1hElsvIQ8/s1600-h/TG-8.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 292px; height: 195px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgNCORn7Beagv1padXmEErKi_sSm9OQsa2t7gUnI4hGURh_CU_1Fi1BVd2eortCNugSInx2PYF7N2bdA1fSOaEeaCwgbdE75BXFU8LdvxF5TRBo0UrTqp53wOylPGI3PmzeJ1hElsvIQ8/s320/TG-8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273587450203371970" border="0" /></a><br />Okay... now I have to place names to everyone. In the leftmost picture, third in from the left is Russel, MacDaddy's brother (MacDaddy would be my daddy for reference). Third in from the right is David, another adopted son and his wife _______ (I'm still learning). The others? I need nametags. On the rightmost picture, I'm drawing a blank. The guy in the flag shirt is Michael, but I couldn't tell you who he was. Everyone on the right I met for the first time today (same with the missing folks on the left) so I will have to get back to you on that one.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZ7vZkLBziCvBCvgPSyfyUXCyKuwG77jXmDrR08eY-6HMS9ybh474VLXojbu8vNCleCrEdpg2anfA7Ne3V_SsgN3D4F6B8ml4zyZxUXPtcAtL-x72f72dYApkhlTn84yfEoJGsR_i2SI/s1600-h/TG-5.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 283px; height: 189px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZ7vZkLBziCvBCvgPSyfyUXCyKuwG77jXmDrR08eY-6HMS9ybh474VLXojbu8vNCleCrEdpg2anfA7Ne3V_SsgN3D4F6B8ml4zyZxUXPtcAtL-x72f72dYApkhlTn84yfEoJGsR_i2SI/s320/TG-5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273587437204899154" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgygiDj2aKBGV2Yzy9NraEFgJAihCfWug7y-W4avmYNb0F0yt1lgmR02d1RbJ9iPlh_wjl5Gl0FM1jzgHrG2PgyELT_1ZmOrZuz_Or44ywClLXmKIYgvNjBdrvMNhkSvezZaGW7lc4YoTY/s1600-h/TG-6.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 283px; height: 189px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgygiDj2aKBGV2Yzy9NraEFgJAihCfWug7y-W4avmYNb0F0yt1lgmR02d1RbJ9iPlh_wjl5Gl0FM1jzgHrG2PgyELT_1ZmOrZuz_Or44ywClLXmKIYgvNjBdrvMNhkSvezZaGW7lc4YoTY/s320/TG-6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273587447249776226" border="0" /></a><br />Now this one I can do. Starting with the leftmost picture, on the left, we have Ron, who is married to Lisa (remember, one of the five "L's"), then Ron's father Ron (that's an easy one), then my sister Lynn (married to Steve, the turkey carver), then Alex and Charlotte (Steve and Lynn's two kids)with Steve sitting at the head of the table. Next to Steve is Sam and Jackie, Steve's parents, then two people whose names I have now forgotten, let's just call them "the blonds," then Ron's wife (forgot her name... shit), and finally Alex, Ron's son. Got it?<br /><br />On the rightmost picture, beginning on the right we have cousin Chris (one of two Chris cousins that I always mix up), who is sitting next to MacDaddy, then Ashley, (I'll explain in a minute), then Ashley's husband, then Keith, who is married to Lorie, and Ashley is Keith's brother's wife's daughter, and Keith is sitting next to one of Lorie's friends from work, next to her is Lorie, and then Bob's wife and Bob, who no one in the McNamee family really knew, but Bob was nice enough.<br /><br />I suppose it would have been easier to label each person in Photoshop, but I have to be up within a few hours to return to work, and I don't really care enough to do that. If you really need clarification, come over for dinner some night and we'll do it in person. The only soul missing from the photograph (that I care to mention) is Sandy McNamee, our family matriarch. After negotiating with the leftovers (I told her I would forgo stuffing if she would take a picture with me, she countered with making me take the creamed corn which she knows I don't like) and in the end, we both decided that I would take the stuffing, forget the corn, and we would take a photo the next time I saw her. One word of advice when dealing with Sandy: Don't fuck with Sandy. And so I didn't. I will take what I can get, and I get a lot.SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-73494378759011564912008-11-27T00:40:00.000-08:002008-12-08T00:59:06.939-08:00Time Lapse ObservationsRemember those nature videos with the flower blooming in fast forward or the five-second version of a spider building its web? Well, tonight I created my own time lapse nature video, sans the video, which you will thank me for after a few more lines of this post.<br /><br />For the past week or so, I have been working eight or ten hours, then a trip home, a quick dinner, a meeting and an hour workout by 11PM. Arrive home, pour a bubble bath (jasmine of course), light a few candles and enjoy a romantic moment, with myself (and an episode of Burn Notice). The routine has been greatly rewarding, after which I put myself in a robe, climb into bed, tweak on the internet, and then fall asleep. Tonight, a change in plans. With the holiday approaching and the roommate out of town, I opted out of the robe and enjoyed the evening "in the buff" as we like to call it around here.<br /><br />Given my late lunch today, I waited to eat dinner until after the bath, and chose a simple meal of pot stickers, and well, pot stickers. While I am supposed to avoid excess sugar (I did cut out the peanut butter cups and the pint of Hagen Daaz each week), I enjoy a root beer in the late evening, my reward for a good day's work. As an aside, frozen pot stickers, encrusted in little ice crystals, tend to snap, crackle and pop in a pan of hot walnut oil. Normally, this doesn't bother me much. I have a habit of scorching my hands and arms on a semi-regular basis when cooking with hot oil (or just heat in general), and my personal safety is typically an afterthought when it comes to a good meal. Food tastes that much better when it requires a personal sacrifice. Tonight, not so much. Le buffe and scorching hot oil, not a pleasant experience. This is why the ex likely never cooked me a meal in nothing more than a see-through apron nor I for her. Fortunately, I managed to minimize my exposure, and that is why I am writing this little anecdote.<br /><br />You see, when I retrieved my cold treat from the fridge tonight, I had just exited a very steamy bath environment. Typically, when one is hot, it is pleasurable to cool down, whether with a cool rag, a cool breeze or in my case, a cool beverage. Not only was I hot, I was nekid (say it out loud, it will make sense). If you are male (which I am) you understand that our body has several self-defense features we have no control over, but which we are grateful for. Our biological mission is to reproduce, and our contribution to that process is located in the testes, often two (though sometimes one) oval-shaped marbles encased in a stretchy piece of soft, hairy (preferably shaven) skin, located in between the legs, directly below the Chosen One (or King James if you're an English bloke).<br /><br />One of those self-defense mechanisms is to regulate the temperature of the gonads, which is accomplished by either expanding or contracting our soft kangaroo-pouch to warm up or to cool off the "boys." Temperature change is often a gradual process, and given that we use additional protective layers to shield "lefty" and "Pancho," we rarely, if ever witness this climatologically-influenced change. Instead we are subject to its results, as when we exit a warm bath or wake up in a snow bank with no clothes because we drank too much and our friends thought it would be amusing, even if hypothermia was surely inevitable. As you might imagine, the ball sack (technical wording, not my terminology) will expand when exposed to heat, causing the testes to descend away from the body such that you can stretch it (the ball sack that is) over a softball (or for the truly ambidextrous, a basketball). Cold then has an opposite effect, resulting in a tight, firm ball sack, even though the amount of skin remains the same, it contracts, resulting not only in a smaller "package" but a thicker protective covering over the testes. If you are ever lacking an outdoor thermometer, buy yourself a bull (or otherwise sufficiently large mammal with exposed junk) and you can judge the temp by the distance between the ground and his nuts. Crude, yes, but effective.<br /><br />We now return to my predicament: A hot bath, a nekid body and a cold bottle of root beer. It is here that my experimentation began, and not to spoil the surprise, but I assure you, it was a success. Simply place the 40º beverage sideways, underneath the outstretched ball bag, and in a matter of seconds, the volume of the sack rapidly decreases, revealing the aforementioned biological protective process known as shrinkage. I know of no human being (I don't really know that many honestly) who is unaware of this concept, and I am sure that many of us have witnessed its aftermath, but few of us, including myself until tonight, have ever seen it in real time. If you are so willing (or for your girls out there, if you have a GGG partner) you might want to give it a try. I will be honest with you, watching a time lapse of blooming orchids or the metamorphosis of a caterpillar into a butterfly is a touching experience with nature, but neither compares to the sheer joy derived from this little moment I had with myself tonight. Now if only I had a video camera...SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-25256788793947489932008-11-26T14:16:00.000-08:002008-11-26T14:23:46.556-08:00Craigslist<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvMyGgSOK1lzDTmSRCxWa9bD3FyGHr-pPjzteo9ll_dTX0eHk8YBUbz4WV77h0kyOLPjZpI8RThjdx0PnuIqkjeWg4Au1WVotj97M04wJ88KyYh-5ewwfErxkxnBWgqmP3U36SsvhM9fo/s1600-h/CL.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 393px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvMyGgSOK1lzDTmSRCxWa9bD3FyGHr-pPjzteo9ll_dTX0eHk8YBUbz4WV77h0kyOLPjZpI8RThjdx0PnuIqkjeWg4Au1WVotj97M04wJ88KyYh-5ewwfErxkxnBWgqmP3U36SsvhM9fo/s400/CL.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273094221390893186" border="0" /></a><br />If you're looking for a little romance with a headless drunk man with hard nipples, I found your guy. And if this one is for you, can you do me a favor and tell me why? Don't get me wrong, I'm all for getting drunk with strange men who like to take advantage of me, especially when my self-esteem is lost in an old pair of drawers I left in the alley outside of that club I can't remember the name of, but even I couldn't bring myself to write this guy back.SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-16253388519618197772008-11-26T13:32:00.001-08:002008-11-26T14:15:08.877-08:00University<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIafFVxmXPgtULvXQwVJx38KeJ3so0lzAqMlJowdCim9BGzr_dxV-UZ87HIeMJlnex2SEJkgNhf1x06Nh9KD1qDIGMda-3ZyIVzTFcwaa2b50nO7N4gMIwaCksG3v0V3LSTmx0lhGtMbg/s1600-h/STEV-1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIafFVxmXPgtULvXQwVJx38KeJ3so0lzAqMlJowdCim9BGzr_dxV-UZ87HIeMJlnex2SEJkgNhf1x06Nh9KD1qDIGMda-3ZyIVzTFcwaa2b50nO7N4gMIwaCksG3v0V3LSTmx0lhGtMbg/s400/STEV-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273083868948020418" border="0" /></a><br />Sonoma State University, just after sunset. I am told the squiggly black and white "art" is known as the bacon, the base of which represents the eggs. And to answer your question, no, SSU is not known for its art program (no offense to art students, but isn't it about time we thought about a serious art installation rather than this).SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-39513862346212275822008-11-23T21:42:00.001-08:002008-11-23T21:57:12.904-08:00Minneapolis<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg68utRKCsotJP0sHE2tuPHy5UQETUqvj-XqCqE5gfnjYF_ULbNvEDHDyTfwgJwrZNYTRvwqsbfqlrtJpl4rK1sdXufYV4fphUb99v2vaRm-0D71LfQv91g9KSYeHSYtn453n1kD5Pg5hw/s1600-h/Guthrie.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 233px; height: 156px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg68utRKCsotJP0sHE2tuPHy5UQETUqvj-XqCqE5gfnjYF_ULbNvEDHDyTfwgJwrZNYTRvwqsbfqlrtJpl4rK1sdXufYV4fphUb99v2vaRm-0D71LfQv91g9KSYeHSYtn453n1kD5Pg5hw/s200/Guthrie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272096705141399906" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0abp4DwBv_tN_v7Oag6qUxBWpkQgrgI2NuPzKy14RVBZ4eCy-UT2nxW36OF9M2DcEkiBKFyLeqVFkjE2pRHtq9Th6Y0W9Y1sDynahUwf7drdVBL-BEOkDsiR-_Urwc6q2ig2_hLQIRZY/s1600-h/Guthrie-4.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 234px; height: 156px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0abp4DwBv_tN_v7Oag6qUxBWpkQgrgI2NuPzKy14RVBZ4eCy-UT2nxW36OF9M2DcEkiBKFyLeqVFkjE2pRHtq9Th6Y0W9Y1sDynahUwf7drdVBL-BEOkDsiR-_Urwc6q2ig2_hLQIRZY/s200/Guthrie-4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272096679134622642" border="0" /></a><br />The Guthrie Theatre (I am continually irked that Americans entertain the spelling "Theater," jerks). Actually, the first photo is overlooking the Mississippi River from a 178-foot "bridge" that just as in Alaska, leads to nowhere, but the view is nicer. The second is the front of the theatre, designed by Jean Nouvel, who won the Pritzker in 2008, as well he should have.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicg3d2Wm4UTI_MC4fMdDzwYYrlfbkvTyG02QhBS7zrgOEMD5JeEmC2bqBiP8ulJq4pEQCKIhtf9ZJNK_Ypb4-4n9jxUxM_1aSeC3Tg5_CRIrm7Vgjc5bNaV-Wfrq0xFtE8gcPnXM2_5vw/s1600-h/Guthrie-2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 233px; height: 155px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicg3d2Wm4UTI_MC4fMdDzwYYrlfbkvTyG02QhBS7zrgOEMD5JeEmC2bqBiP8ulJq4pEQCKIhtf9ZJNK_Ypb4-4n9jxUxM_1aSeC3Tg5_CRIrm7Vgjc5bNaV-Wfrq0xFtE8gcPnXM2_5vw/s200/Guthrie-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272096703268499026" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGfc3iRLYoCVH2-sv1g8pdg6yakXUySceRQ3lcqSpXZ1FcjYQYOLPgePbFbtmJ7uc6wTseq6hhsyvwyHByz-TZXEWhTfMAerGmhdpaPuc3de9AFG-XSDUpvDjetMD6Yl-M9IE2TnBGr3I/s1600-h/Guthrie-3.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 234px; height: 155px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGfc3iRLYoCVH2-sv1g8pdg6yakXUySceRQ3lcqSpXZ1FcjYQYOLPgePbFbtmJ7uc6wTseq6hhsyvwyHByz-TZXEWhTfMAerGmhdpaPuc3de9AFG-XSDUpvDjetMD6Yl-M9IE2TnBGr3I/s200/Guthrie-3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272096697071124018" border="0" /></a><br />The start of the bridge and a flour company next door. At 11PM, there is only so much you can capture, and neon tends to stand out.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZpYVg_nCD_zjQ1Epl1aZz_gZmyOhs9pUq59OU8t9JUhxT0aHNu_G3YftKNkdvGZYD4_ub6qBw-mo67GpVBYQhnUsLITxvXuxh_Bhp-0xNODkScDXylc0PuE0XW7SY2Q4GbGbmX2o_imk/s1600-h/PublicLibrary.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZpYVg_nCD_zjQ1Epl1aZz_gZmyOhs9pUq59OU8t9JUhxT0aHNu_G3YftKNkdvGZYD4_ub6qBw-mo67GpVBYQhnUsLITxvXuxh_Bhp-0xNODkScDXylc0PuE0XW7SY2Q4GbGbmX2o_imk/s400/PublicLibrary.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272095413685218050" border="0" /></a><br />The public library. A far cry from the brick and mortar public library from my childhood.SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-44820898680182901512008-11-23T21:27:00.001-08:002008-11-23T21:35:17.437-08:00BA: Remembered 1988-2008<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhprteoqvBEd8hmL7gnEiWtgGz6mKrxhnUjTQcZPTifK73N8GAsDPtuWlf3bPyuYlH03Jfs8QiAmf5ypUYkoClPDHptnjgJYBMvdy3sTQz4OZEIebQ29XTohB7EcTroi1SbLUHi-utmWqg/s1600-h/BA.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 282px; height: 189px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhprteoqvBEd8hmL7gnEiWtgGz6mKrxhnUjTQcZPTifK73N8GAsDPtuWlf3bPyuYlH03Jfs8QiAmf5ypUYkoClPDHptnjgJYBMvdy3sTQz4OZEIebQ29XTohB7EcTroi1SbLUHi-utmWqg/s320/BA.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272092287354097138" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiusuafv0xHxkFv7AvR9TL-7WzQGAjmjc9b28EGhHx2ovzZE11MJKmm5kG-D2XH32pQjpnhVnA0V43-wVBbcj34xD1ckcBSQ7H6xBgg5L3UJyGSphEv7ZJGsFcBiwY91SpkMnkRwRyxw4c/s1600-h/BA-2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 283px; height: 189px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiusuafv0xHxkFv7AvR9TL-7WzQGAjmjc9b28EGhHx2ovzZE11MJKmm5kG-D2XH32pQjpnhVnA0V43-wVBbcj34xD1ckcBSQ7H6xBgg5L3UJyGSphEv7ZJGsFcBiwY91SpkMnkRwRyxw4c/s320/BA-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272091881328374434" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQeoMx3M25_gfuUHoyIKSIj3IajssBDfMEM40BM4ifzYtxAUtjhXGQGC6UVue7PI3KutmdT_v9yrSAlzANBZe46euixRAZFM1XNXdx9JCCVXobR633hmMKuOJ_FDAV0INBjMtHsCJ3Dc/s1600-h/BA-3.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 283px; height: 189px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQeoMx3M25_gfuUHoyIKSIj3IajssBDfMEM40BM4ifzYtxAUtjhXGQGC6UVue7PI3KutmdT_v9yrSAlzANBZe46euixRAZFM1XNXdx9JCCVXobR633hmMKuOJ_FDAV0INBjMtHsCJ3Dc/s320/BA-3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272091884735850434" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhAcIlNwrtkRneM4eyFMJGo2skpXBxPhElwh6_PbGOpa7nAfR0VRQ4r2tuLOrpG0QFp1pWiPboq0hjw76l3cKCA9XBbe5WXMECdUdPK9WGJHbOg5Srf0ryZwfflB6MoOV7wSaO0mDu8xo/s1600-h/BA-4.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 282px; height: 188px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhAcIlNwrtkRneM4eyFMJGo2skpXBxPhElwh6_PbGOpa7nAfR0VRQ4r2tuLOrpG0QFp1pWiPboq0hjw76l3cKCA9XBbe5WXMECdUdPK9WGJHbOg5Srf0ryZwfflB6MoOV7wSaO0mDu8xo/s320/BA-4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272091875778419058" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8XlIqvuUgotHwLygMh8FbryOfBINRlrCRFO5zAH4t-IzMSySKNkWGDn5ZB-NpPbfMdU1MGV4vyh7bpiPXmfqS9Bykk-MLGHrbo92I47m8TLYSEKtNaCsNqFrX0D-HuGQyFA9Emhz7mEc/s1600-h/BA-6.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 282px; height: 188px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8XlIqvuUgotHwLygMh8FbryOfBINRlrCRFO5zAH4t-IzMSySKNkWGDn5ZB-NpPbfMdU1MGV4vyh7bpiPXmfqS9Bykk-MLGHrbo92I47m8TLYSEKtNaCsNqFrX0D-HuGQyFA9Emhz7mEc/s320/BA-6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272091871628998274" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgENROnkHRKXT8WOvZrf2rDj5E-yZ3Oe3Jkg4aOmV1JaWehxhbDtwa07w7E54KoqUQMSSV0n7rQYkq8jefCbLfAf6ZIFRi7d-qahTTY2QPhpqqn2mrbgbZDsdek2NT3aiuO75XZTiOeAss/s1600-h/BA-5.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 283px; height: 187px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgENROnkHRKXT8WOvZrf2rDj5E-yZ3Oe3Jkg4aOmV1JaWehxhbDtwa07w7E54KoqUQMSSV0n7rQYkq8jefCbLfAf6ZIFRi7d-qahTTY2QPhpqqn2mrbgbZDsdek2NT3aiuO75XZTiOeAss/s320/BA-5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272091875520734354" border="0" /></a>SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-87737134720804371902008-11-23T21:10:00.001-08:002008-11-23T21:26:49.547-08:00Dinner, For OneCooking for one still results in cooking for two; after all, if you're going through all the trouble, you might as well pretend to be the second person.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinJudQmFFiuj7Avw6rjboYiG-6JgYUXUQhFSz7yPRZa4BAImac1d1vQJHXArwgVKYvnZt4zsVhnZbADQ8hnv30E5B-yWSIj0D3fFqGdSAN7yrwIdtHPKQnplfzmW-mr1Zbmc7jC1Ph76Q/s1600-h/Dinner1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 282px; height: 188px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinJudQmFFiuj7Avw6rjboYiG-6JgYUXUQhFSz7yPRZa4BAImac1d1vQJHXArwgVKYvnZt4zsVhnZbADQ8hnv30E5B-yWSIj0D3fFqGdSAN7yrwIdtHPKQnplfzmW-mr1Zbmc7jC1Ph76Q/s320/Dinner1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272087475679677650" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipwEWCfXGz21ST690laxxGepdL7NivvNm715w5F7wvXGbhuXsp44w2XkwiX10VHhVXvZ0V4Mx8zIqWynqLKGNEGLn6g6troOZ82LPH2N1Q83c5oWa9t3TpY0uPrn-XgHBcQTo5j3lkhA0/s1600-h/Dinner1-2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 282px; height: 188px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipwEWCfXGz21ST690laxxGepdL7NivvNm715w5F7wvXGbhuXsp44w2XkwiX10VHhVXvZ0V4Mx8zIqWynqLKGNEGLn6g6troOZ82LPH2N1Q83c5oWa9t3TpY0uPrn-XgHBcQTo5j3lkhA0/s320/Dinner1-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272087470592153634" border="0" /></a><br />Two leg sections, trimmed of excess fat and skin. A garlic, lemon, white wine, butter sauce, chopped red onions (or shallots or white onions or anything onion-like), leftover spices from steak night (red pepper flakes, ginger, three types of sea salt and four types of pepper), fresh lemon, chopped garlic, chicken stock and more wine. Coat the chicken in the butter sauce (helps the browning process, holds the seasoning on the chicken, and tastes spectacular), then season both the top and bottom. Sprinkle the garlic and red onion around the chicken, then pour in some chicken stock, white wine and a bit of fresh lemon. Be careful not to disturb the seasoning on the chicken. Seasoning has feelings too. And it tastes better when it stays on the chicken. Bake at 350 for thirty minutes (why 350? Because I needed the extra time to finish an episode of Burn Notice), then start the qunoia in a cup of chicken stock, fresh garlic and some sliced mushrooms. Reheat the oven to 400, set the timer for 10 minutes. When the timer sounds, set the oven to broil, place the chicken close to the top of the oven, and crisp the chicken to your liking. Another five minutes on the qunoia and enough time to cook the green and yellow beans.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFe1r_DjT4PkpxPpyaBdEkbVbCb04PmAI5GLhnH7EpVuxi3e4VmUUgukNG1csIJuAKTSlJPUaeW7xOCTIOntiawuiqP4YjOY6VbzounyBAwJlY2U9Rpal9aKEq-BhRE6HN3eRb0LQBmc8/s1600-h/Dinner1-3.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 281px; height: 187px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFe1r_DjT4PkpxPpyaBdEkbVbCb04PmAI5GLhnH7EpVuxi3e4VmUUgukNG1csIJuAKTSlJPUaeW7xOCTIOntiawuiqP4YjOY6VbzounyBAwJlY2U9Rpal9aKEq-BhRE6HN3eRb0LQBmc8/s320/Dinner1-3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272087470657526162" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuQZ3x2YSARZmHp4HNeB5LpsEx1rJY3PpbOv0_UEFH4xNN_rGY0AqBuLuEyQJRtsFy12ENNR9fcxTF6ZtnsmsgsKvUW0-92LSydN2mBCSvK0UnfOo6R719lHZcvzwflRirQWP48xOX-XE/s1600-h/Dinner1-4.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 187px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuQZ3x2YSARZmHp4HNeB5LpsEx1rJY3PpbOv0_UEFH4xNN_rGY0AqBuLuEyQJRtsFy12ENNR9fcxTF6ZtnsmsgsKvUW0-92LSydN2mBCSvK0UnfOo6R719lHZcvzwflRirQWP48xOX-XE/s320/Dinner1-4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272087465954518786" border="0" /></a><br />I was out of root beer and I don't drink wine. I consume enough milk to cure osteoporosis in an 80 year-old man, so what's a guy to do? Quick, iced tea. I know, you're supposed to brew it in the sun or something, right? Not this tea. A couple of pear tea bags, brewed extra strong. Boil some water, sugar and a few slices of lemon, then combine with the tea and a dozen ice cubes. Instant iced tea. Dinner is served.SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7950753875483961750.post-14598201300805604592008-11-22T22:45:00.000-08:002008-11-22T23:21:20.457-08:00Three Cats, In Repose<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7zAp6FO9NIX8F2BXVnbE68ttoAdO2KmtQkIuPf0wOxHUvh3LWTHEWao0bbK3aORtvkH6JOgmZrdcF6K6otLNhXgrtV_xgyLcnTXLYFhjhQPR8jl2SEU-n7BHsbXan7ApvzL5FS7ZHg3A/s1600-h/Tony2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 420px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7zAp6FO9NIX8F2BXVnbE68ttoAdO2KmtQkIuPf0wOxHUvh3LWTHEWao0bbK3aORtvkH6JOgmZrdcF6K6otLNhXgrtV_xgyLcnTXLYFhjhQPR8jl2SEU-n7BHsbXan7ApvzL5FS7ZHg3A/s400/Tony2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271747822018842658" border="0" /></a><br />Tony II: Tony I would nap in the kitchen sink, even with the water on. This same demeanor is what earned Tony II his name. You could punch this cat in the face, set him on fire, throw him in the bathtub, and after all of that, he will still cuddle with you. But if you try anything of the sort, I'll fucking cut you.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZdEcMkeiKTD3gCceBxXMvI5QsETlSVLGxQLC-rjoBfsUErF_gC_ZoNH3LEkgjErl8_JYZlMU-EKTd5Lpb1U-2UX824tUatSsd6HGQYK_iRuYJQ-2GMkWCYvRtDTFcYYCJu6OQaAx7dzs/s1600-h/Jezebel1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 420px; height: 277px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZdEcMkeiKTD3gCceBxXMvI5QsETlSVLGxQLC-rjoBfsUErF_gC_ZoNH3LEkgjErl8_JYZlMU-EKTd5Lpb1U-2UX824tUatSsd6HGQYK_iRuYJQ-2GMkWCYvRtDTFcYYCJu6OQaAx7dzs/s320/Jezebel1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271741114618552674" border="0" /></a><br />Jezebel I: After a brief musical obsession with Dolly Parton, Jolene somehow became Jezebel when I found this one at a local shelter. What began as a small, petite, darling young adult morphed into the rubenesque jewel you see here.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw_fxnMTMSP5jl3Tq8FQ-cxS4rxMvVBV03q-itA9ysWwZIFV7Z8JmxURkqsT6bsVgFZfqlg5LBfQSWx8LRiF0nhKhvyMT6G7I0S3QfD0e3YWqpWdknl2sCB7jI0aU6Cab7qfwVCJhMw8A/s1600-h/Soren1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 420px; height: 279px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw_fxnMTMSP5jl3Tq8FQ-cxS4rxMvVBV03q-itA9ysWwZIFV7Z8JmxURkqsT6bsVgFZfqlg5LBfQSWx8LRiF0nhKhvyMT6G7I0S3QfD0e3YWqpWdknl2sCB7jI0aU6Cab7qfwVCJhMw8A/s320/Soren1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271741117812216450" border="0" /></a><br />Soren: Think Miles' cool.SENSITIVEARTISThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03059973993741078262noreply@blogger.com0