Birthday Breakfast

I just finished my birthday breakfast; it was delicious! The other day, I tried cooking mushrooms a little differently. I used to saute them over medium heat for a while, but this time, I turned the heat up. They weren't cooking for more than a couple of minutes before they looked REALLY good. Normally, I would have let them go for a while, but I was feeling adventurous and hungry, so I slid them right out of the pan. They were much better than my usually method!

So, today it was a mushroom and jack cheese omelet. I usually enjoy an omelet with some meat and a bit of a zing to it, but this more subtle dish was great today. 

Demon Rum

'Tis the season, and I am a fan of the Christmas cheer!

Twice in as many days, I have quoted one of my more popular dongoisms:

Vodka is my friend, Tequila is my enemy,

But Rum is my lover.

Soon, I will attend a holiday party. I am really looking forward to it, but there is one ominous warning thundering through my subconscious:

Mix ye not, the grape and the grain!

At this party, I expect to sample some of the more potent versions of Christmas cheer. Among them, the vile Blackout. Now, I am quite the campaigner and long steeped in evil. I fear not for myself, but for those gentle souls that have not my long-practiced experience with degradation and personal defilement. I fear for them. For to turn your back on Blackout is to invite catastrophe, and to mix red wine with Blackout is folly most grievous. How do I warn these gentle souls? 

And this from two millennia ago:

Bibamus moriendum est

The Sea!

I read an exchange in a book a few years ago, it was a job interview. The position was an assistant on scientific research vessel. The applicant, a young guy, was asked how he felt about the ocean. "I love the ocean!" He went on to explain how he liked to surf and swim and such, and how the ocean was like his mother. The interviewer commented that it was good to see he had no fear of the sea. "Naw to that," the kid replied, "She scares the shit out of me." He was immediately hired.

This is a really how I feel about the sea, deep down. I love it, and I fear it. Sailing, swimming, snorkeling, diving... (I'm not so keen on kayaking). I love being near the water, I love being in it and on it and under it. But She is dangerous and I hope never to lose my respect.

When I was a lad, family trips to the beach often found me in the surf. Never surfing--not cool enough for that. Mostly I just the sensations of getting tossed around in the surf. I was a maniac. My parents eventually learned not to watch, as I always seemed to surface eventually. I always swim with my eyes open, so I was a fright by the end of the day. Eyes glowing, body shivering, covered in sand and usually scratched up a lot.

I was fairly young when I learned to sail, maybe 11 or 12, on little boats in Newport Harbor with the Boy Scouts. As much as they tried to instill a sense of fear and respect for the water, the exhilaration of my small boat being pushed around by a stiff breeze washed away my sense of caution. I pushed the boat harder and harder. I was the first in the group to capsize and this did nothing to increase my caution. What a rush! Coaxing all of the speed out of that boat, then crashing it into the cool, dark water! In the classwork, I had taken to sailing concepts easily, but I was no longer a good example for the class. 

I did not take to snorkeling very easily, but that was the wildlife. The first time I attempted to snorkel was in Belize. How hard could it be? I jumped in, adjusted my mask and came face to face with a barracuda. To be fair, he was no monster, probably just a 3-footer hanging out under the boat as they often do. But he was all teeth and no one has every accused a barracuda of being an attractive fish. I think I made that underwater scream from Jaws and bolted for the swim step. Learning to dive taught me a great deal about using fins, something that made snorkeling SO much easier and more fun. I love snorkeling in the Caribbean...warm water!

I started my diving class after my wife and son were already accomplished divers. Matt decided on diving as a class assignment for high school, and Teri accompanied him. I wanted to learn at my own pace, so I opted to pay some extra for private tutoring. The classwork went very quickly and effortlessly, but the poolwork was amusing. My instructor was wonderful, but I could see the look of horror in her eyes as she tried to teach me each of the skills. I am just not graceful. At the end of the first day, she looked extremely skeptical. I assured her I would return for my lesson the next day; (she looked doubtful). The next day, I did wonderfully and she was shocked at the contrast. I explained that I was not terribly bright and things need a chance to sink in, which is true. I displayed a lot of the same initial grace with my open water dives in Key Largo. I still look a hot mess on the surface, but those first few dives frightened the instructor. When I hit the bottom, my weights were around my ankles and his eyes got really big when I calmly took off the weight belt and refastened it around my waist. No problemo. Don't let this spook you, diving is a lot of fun--just don't watch me at it.

 
Of course, sailing is how I have experienced the sea most often in my life. Once I sailed a Hobie in Long Beach harbor, fresh water never had the same appeal. We even sailed a Hobie to Catalina! While back at UCI, I sailed Lidos and Shields30s in Newport Harbor. Shields began the "big boat" phase for me, then Felix entered my life. A lot of family fun on Felix, nicknamed the Catalinamobile. In 2006 & 2007, I sailed on Double Down on the East Coast. Those are some of my most intense sailing memories--repositioning charters that took us to Miami, Key West, the Bahamas, Annapolis, Martinique, St. Lucia and St. Vincent. Toss in a trip to the BVI on Claire--what a lovely week that was! And then, Safari! 

 

Okay, now wistful for some time on the sea...

More Batch Lore

In my field, we are vicious users of acronyms. They are ubiquitous and you can usually spot the newbie by the confused look after an exchange like, "Where's the DSO? We were checking out the ITA with the DMM, before installing the TLB and PCM."

In case you were actually wondering:

DSO - Digital Sampling Oscilloscope
ITA - Interface Test Adapter
DMM - Digital MultiMeter
TLB - Termination & Load Board
PCM - Power & Control Module

It's so rampant that we jokingly call them TLAs...Three Letter Acronyms.

An interesting thing about TLAs is they are a convenient shortcut, allowing us to communicate faster and more efficiently. (To demonstrate, try repeating the sentence sounding out all those extra syllables).

I find that I use adages as shortcuts in a similar matter. For instance, I was explaining why I think most men and women don't belong living together. "Familiarity breeds contempt," is all I needed to say. This is an old adage, and like all adages, has truth but shouldn't be shoe-horned in unnecessarily. It is a shortcut to a long discussion about cohabitation. I would expect some people to object to my use of this adage, but the ones that have experienced the joys of a long marriage are conspicuously quiet. Well, the newly single ones usually respond with a lusty "Amen"! whereas the currently married ones generally look left, look right, then nod quietly and blush.

A friend of mine told me that cohabitation is the death of sex. That's her theory. I think "death" is a little harsh, but she has a point that is hard to ignore. When I am asked, I often joke about my GF moving in with me. I really don't want her seeing the unvarnished bachelor that is me, taking the time to bleach the skidmarks from my pantaloons. I would rather approach her clean shaven, smelling good and sporting clean underwear. Is there such a thing as too much intimacy? Hell yes.

Another adage I use a lot is, "absence makes the heart grow fonder" and generally in that same discussion. If you want to make spending time with someone special again, the easiest way is to take a break from their company. In the case of a significant other, that time away is often your only opportunity to spend time with yourself... alone. I cherish my alone time.

Batch Lore

After a plethora of family and friends, I had some alone time down at the boat this weekend. I don't get down there enough these days, so it was a welcome treat. The weather was magnificent! Yes, Southern California and all, but at 85 degrees F, sunny with a nice breeze, it was really quite amazing. The sun just sparkled on the water.

As I often do when I want to treat myself, I walked over to 22nd Street Landing for a solo dinner. I think the staff recognizes me now, as I get a warm greeting and enough attention to make me feel special. As usual, I start with an oyster shooter, followed by the omnipresent rum. Going all out, I ordered a shellfish combo appetizer and crab stuffed bass for entree. 

It was delicious! Afterward, I stumbled back to the boat, puttered a bit, then crashed early.

Sunday morning dawned and found me refreshed and eager for the day. I took a shower in the locker room, then wandered over to the Doubletree for some breakfast. As I waited for my omelet, I marveled at the beauty of my surroundings. The sun was shining again, and a lovely breeze had trees and flags dancing. I ordered a bloody mary.

As I sat there sipping that great drink that I have not had in years, I felt sort of lonely. Here was a host of sensual pleasures eager to be shared and I was on my own. The setting was just too gorgeous for a momentary flash of loneliness to bring me down. The conversation at the next table wafted my way; middle aged couple, staying at the hotel. Complaints about the price of the hotel, then some chit chat critical of the hotel itself. I lost interest, sipped my drink and suddenly was appreciative that I was alone. This couple felt the need to fill up the space between them and did so with mindless complaints. I wonder, do I do that? Probably not complaints, but I do find it difficult to remain silent when sitting with someone.Is filling up the space really a good thing?

I sat for some time, eating, drinking, sighing at the sight of all those boats in the marina and pondering Dongo and the bachelor life. Sometimes lonely, but today it afforded me the opportunity to think quietly, to re-center myself. 

I again dipped into the couple's conversation as they paid the check. Some cute banter about how she's the boss as she picked up the check. I felt better about them. 

Back at the boat, I shed my shirt and silently berated myself for not keeping some shorts on the boat. I cleaned up a bit. Poor Felix needs more love than I've been providing. More solitude and puttering brought me to the conclusion that I love this little boat and I should spend more time down at the marina, and also on the water.

random

Time flies like an arrow,
fruit flies like a banana.

I had a great weekend, filled with fun and friends!

Even though it's a short week, I'm having trouble getting motivated at work. 

I am intrigued by the idea of making a bust sculpted from spam. I might be good at that sort of thing. But what then? a change in careers? Can I really be the budding new artist working in that avant garde medium? I can just see myself sfter a gallery opening filling out the insurance forms because a masterpiece was inadvertently destroyed for lack of appetizers. Ugh.

I had a weird dream the other night. I dreamt I was a king and I was assassinated by a Japanese princess using throwing needles. It took a long time to die, but wasn't really painful. Where does this stuff come from?

Candles and fire in the fireplaces! There are some real nice things about this time of year. Of course, I find the early sundown thing a bit disconcerting. I was also eyeballing some gorgeous cyclamen at Costco the other day. I still have plumeria blossoms and paperwhites, but they will both be gone soon. That cyclamen could turn out to be a good friend. 

"You...<sniff>...complete me...<sniff>" What a crock of weapons grade baloneyium! 

I really need to get going on that jacuzzi. And the new carpet in the living room, but especially that jacuzzi! I want it, I want it, I want it!


Well, that's enough rambling for the nonce...

   

camping

I miss camping. When I was a lad, I spent a lot of time camping, with my family, with Boy Scouts, and with Gadget Girl.

For many years, my family spent our vacations in Pismo Beach, camping of sorts. My parents owned a travel trailer and we pulled that thing up the coast each summer for a week of camping, fishing and most importantly, clamming! My family loves clams, especially because they were free. My parents would dig for clams for hours at a time...well past low tide and sometimes after dark. The trailer was not huge, so I often slept outside, by myself. I loved sleeping outdoors, in a tent or under the stars.

Boy Scouts was a great opportunity for camping--we'd go at least once a month. I wonder if Boy Scouts do a lot of camping these days? When I was a lad, we picked a theme each year. One year was canoeing and we camped at Lake Perris to practice for our big trip, a week canoeing on the Colorado River. Another year, it was backpacking and we backpacked in the desert, up the peak of San Jacinto, eventually culminating in a week in the High Sierras.

When I was newlywed, Gadget Girl and I did A LOT of camping. We didn't have weekends off, but we sailed on Lake Perris all day and camped there overnight so we could sail again the next day. I remember my first vacation when I worked for Thrifty--I had a full week off and it rained while we camped at Lake Perris.

The various sailing adventures have a camping feel to them, as I often sleep in the boat's trampoline, under the stars. 

Ahhh, camping! 

funny

1: "Sometimes, I like to be cold."

2: "Why in the world would you like to be cold?"

1: "Because getting warm feels very nice."

2: "Why not just stay warm in the first place?"

1: "You don't know me at all."

1 = me.

Do you get it?

I'm a bad man

Gee, I suppose I'm supposed to write an inaugural address kicking off a new blog, but not today. Maybe I'll get to it later.

I am a bad man. Not for the usual reasons, I suppose, and perhaps "bad" is a little misleading. Maybe "tainted" like a bad piece of fish. Here's the point: I am a romantic, but my concept of romance is not the same as chicks'. (Oh yes, I use the words chick, dame, babe, etc. If you're keeping score, you should probably add that to the list).

In my mind, there are two types of romance. Like economics and politics, there is micro- and macro-romance. 

First, microromance: holding hands, kissing, candlelight, the full moon, bumping butts with someone in the kitchen, China silk on skin in a warm breeze, pouring Bailey's into a lover's coffee...honestly, I could go on and on. One of the characteristics of microromance is its fleeting nature. The best examples of microromance I have are pure moments, usually simple pleasures. 

Macroromance, in contrast, is a collection of these huge, moving concepts; the kinda shit that can really get you in trouble. Happily Ever After, (HEA), marriage, growing old together, the word "forever," cohabitation... Obviously, these are not fleeting things. No, these are the biggies!

Now, of course, I am damaged goods and all that; a guy that was married for 25 years and opted to change his life. My marriage wasn't horrible, I didn't hate my wife, none of that stuff. But being married for 25 years and raising a couple of boys will change a fellow. Here I sit, changed. Changed, and tainted. You see, I am a huge fan of microromance, but you can keep that macroromance--it's not for me.

When I was younger, I was a world class romantic, and a complete idiot. I REALLY believed the whole enchilada. I connected with the macroromantic ideals in a profound and now, embarrassing way. Seriously, imagine the front row at the premiere of the new Twilight movie: scoop up all those young chicks and smash them together. I was worse. It makes me laugh now, but I blush, too. I was such a lamb.

There are those who would be tempted to wrap their arms around me and say, "There, there, Little Puttum, life has changed you." You could do that, but please don't. You see, I don't think life has changed me as much as educated me. If I am corrupted, I want to stay this way!

Okay, before I go into the soul-crushing myth of HEA, let me say that I do believe in Westley and Buttercup. Yep, I can't deny it, there are some freaks of nature who experience True Love. (Note the caps). And like Miracle Max, it's a tough thing to admit when you see it. But like Miracle Max, I think True Love is INCREDIBLY rare. Incredibly rare and usually involving being dropped on your head as a child. Okay, maybe that's a little mean, but they have True Love, so it's okay to make fun of them.

The thing about True Love: it's not for me, (and probably not for you, either). Why? Because the circumstances that would allow something that incredibly rare do not live inside me. Even if they did, they have to simultaneously live inside the object of my affection. And then there's a timing and circumstance element to the whole thing. Holy crap, it starts to make buying lottery tickets sound reasonable. 

If you haven't guessed already, the root of my issues with romance lie in the 4th dimension, Time. Actually, I think the fourth dimension is more accurately described as duration, and that's a better way to put it. Romance is fleeting, and I'm fine with that. I try to live in the moment, and there are so many wonderful little things to acknowledge. Are they romantic? I have trouble distinguishing these simple, pure moments from microromance sometimes. I love candlelight, for instance. I burn candles very often, and mostly when I'm alone. Is that romantic? It is sensual, I love the flickering light, the playful shadows throughout the room, the subtle scent, the way the light changes the colors of everything. B-b-b-but, I'm alone! For me, romantic. Burning candles with people around, also romantic, (usually). I think I'm just going to paint with a big brush and call all of these things romantic.

If you want to get into trouble, try too hard to hold onto fleeting romance. If a romantic, candlelit dinner was magical and amazing, why shouldn't we experience them every night? Well, because familiarity breeds contempt. Would the sixth dinner in a row still be as magical? Hell no. That doesn't mean one magical dinner has ruined you for the rest of your life. No, it's about moderation. 

And Macroromance is not about moderation. It's about trying to hold onto something fleeting. 

I like the fleeting. Dinner, sailing, candle light, the full moon.