I hope some of you remember Karen McP. She was an active tBlogger for a long time. She just sent me a link to this video. This is amazing.

Enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?...

(To listen to an audio version of this post, (once Gabcast updates sometime during the day,) click on the podcast with the same title over to the right.)

Good morning Boys and Girls,

Late yesterday afternoon I ran home to make up a big antipasto salad to take to one of my accounts to go along with the pizzas I was having delivered. (I was too cheap to have the salad made by the pizzeria, though whether I really saved any money is questionable. I don't care, it was fun.)

Anyway, this place has been my best account for a couple of years; I truly enjoy doing work there; and this is the third Christmas season I've done the pizza and salad thing for them between the holidays on one of the nights they have to work late.

I got home at 4:30 and had the salad made up about fifteen minutes later; a good thing since it takes about a half hour to drive to their place of business, and the pizzas were being delivered at 5:30.

All this to get to my point.

I dropped off the salad at 5:15 and found myself surprised it was still light out. Just a few days ago, I noticed it was almost full dark when I got home from work at 4:48 exactly, something I'd taken note of for some reason, though I forget what made me notice it.

Then after dropping off the salad, I drove back home, arriving at 5:45, and it still wasn't even full dusk. I noticed, for instance that I hadn't turned on my headlights during the trip, an automatic response for me the second it feels necessary, and something I rarely forget to do.

So, here's the upshot: we're five days past the winter solstice; hell we haven't even hit New Years Day yet; and I found myself smiling at the thought.

You know the thought don't you?

Sure you do.

-Spring is coming.


Be good to everyone.


surrogate's damn good Two-Minute Balsamic Vinaigrette

one-half cup balsamic vinegar
one-half cup rice wine vinegar
one cup extra-virgin olive oil
one-half cup water (taste it, if you like less bite, add a little more water.)
one Tablespoon Dijon mustard
one teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
one teaspoon garlic powder
one-half teaspoon salt
one tablespoon dried parsley - (or more if you have fresh)
one-half teaspoon cracked black pepper

Mix. It'll keep refrigerated for weeks, plus because of the mustard and parsley, it emulsifies easily and separates slowly, meaning a quick shake or stir will remix it.

Want a variation? Add a little sugar - maybe a slightly rounded teaspoon - then use cider vinegar (or just more rice wine vinegar) instead of balsamic and add a half-cup of crushed raspberries (or any fruit you like) for an easy flavored vinaigrette.

In a place much like this one,
one Christmas Eve morning,
a small girl named Emily
gave her Mom a warning

"Mommy, I love you,
and I know you love me,
but I'm having a problem
that I don't think you see.

See, my Christmas gift wish list,
keeps growing and growing.
I keep seeing new stuff
on commercials they're showing

There's thirty-two dolls I want,
and twenty-six toys
and forty-three picture books
and drums to make noise

I want Warblees and Wingbats
and Schnerple the Wizard;
an eye patch, a tutu,
and a globe that makes blizzards

And three kinds of candy
and an oven for baking
and a kiddie sized sewing machine
for things I'll be making

So many commercials
each day on TV
They say if you love me,
you'll get them for me.

And I want them all now Mom,
and I want them all bad
And if I don't get them?
I'll really be mad."

And Emily scolwed
and looked a bit wild
She folded her arms
But her Mother just smiled

Mom shook her head slowly
She chuckled a bit
She asked Emily over
and she told her to sit

So Emily ambled
her way to the couch
and plopped herself down
and proceeded to slouch

"Emily sweetheart,
you are being a brat
You're how old now Emily?"
"I'm five. You know that"

"Exactly. You're five dear
And you are my kid.
And I'll tell you this now,
I don't like what you did

Yes, this is Christmas
but dear, here's is the thing,
you'll get what we give you,
and not one more thing.

You're loved. That's a gift
they can't show on TV.
Forever, I'll love you,
and I hope you'll love me.

And Emily smiled,
and they hugged each other,
-a five-year-old girl,
snuggled up with her Mother.

Good afternoon Boys and Girls.

Fifteen days left in 2007.

Where did ya go, year?

I can't figure it out. I'm pretty sure it was just New years day 2007 about a week ago.

Fifty-one times I've watched the seasons cycle through. Hard for me to believe. Most years, I've enjoyed watching the process, though for a few years after my divorce, I didn't even notice. Hell, I didn't notice much of anything for a while there.

Those days - at least a thousand or so - are just an ugly fog, and I try not to revisit them for any length of time lest that awful mood - utter depression, really - threatens to creep back into my head for even an instant. I can't allow that, and happily, these days, I'm glad to say it's rarely a problem.

I've finally come to the conclusion that my ex-wife's departure, so extremely painful to me for so long, was (a.) not my "fault," and (b.) her loss more than mine. Sure, I still miss our family being together, but I find that I don't really miss her as much any more. If she's happy? -God bless her. If she's not, I hope she finds happiness. The fact is, she wasn't the person I thought she was anyway. Pretty sure I created an image of her to love that bore little resemblance to who she really was. I think we all do that. It's part of love really; we block out what we don't want to see.

-This is real growth on my part. (I'll now take a bow.)

Living here in Michigan, I've always considered myself lucky; it's easy to notice significant changes as each season comes and goes, something I definitely missed those few years in Florida. There, winter is cooler than the rest of the year, but frankly, the temperature variations between spring, summer and fall were too insignificant to even notice. I mean, I don't know about you, but the difference between a super-humid eighty-five degrees (spring and fall) and a super-humid ninety-five degrees (summer) just isn't all that great. I mean, work-wise, what's the difference between sweating a half-gallon an hour and a gallon? Either way, you're going to need a clean shirt even to walk into a McDonalds.

Today it's cold and gray here; good writing weather for me but since I'm still decompressing from the trip, and too tired to think straight for long, I'll wait till tomorrow to get started again.

I seriously don't know how truck drivers do it, driving ten hours a day every day. Maybe it's something one gets used to. It must be, since so many drivers I've talked to over the years at truck stops mention how much they love being on the road.

Not me. I do great for about six hours, but after that I need to rest a few hours. If not, I'm wrecked the day afterward.

Yesterday I drove just over five hundred miles, stopping just twice to gas up and to use the john. When I got home, I felt just fine and I slept great overnight, but still, today I feel like a well used punching bag.

The most exciting thing about the trip home was seeing a bald eagle yesterday afternoon just before I crossed the Mississippi. Gliding across in front of me and not more than twenty feet in the air, it was really beautiful. I think it was the first one I've ever seen in the wild, or at least the first one I've ever been able to definitely identify as being a bald eagle and not some other variety. The Detroit Zoo used to have one in a small section of the aviary when I was a kid, but that poor guy never looked healthy, and I used to feel sorry for him.

Glad to be home, but... But...



Be good to everyone.

Good evening Boys and Girls.

I sit in my little hotel room enjoying my new little Macbook. I worked for a few hours this afternoon, both on a little project I'm doing for the hotel here and on the new writing project which has NOT gotten of to an especially auspicious start, considering I killed four pages I'd written the day before I left to come here, meaning that my total page output so far went from twelve to eight. Eight pages in two weeks. Not great. I knew this was going to be a tough story to start on, but man oh man, I didn't think I'd be quite this lame about it, nor did I realize I'd use the word "little" three times in this paragraph... Well, four.

I received a tmail today I've been thinking about off and on for a few hours. The writer expressed the opinion that I have no faith. An absurd assertion to me, but it's understandable I suppose especially for people convinced that the way they understand things is "fact" and therefore indisputable. Usually, people like that don't realize that it's that very attitude that causes so much strife in this weary old world. Of course, they usually don't care since to them this world is just a way station; a warehouse of bodies making our own choices about where we're going to spend eternity. If you, like me, see things differently, evidently we have no faith. Laughable, but, like I said, entirely understandable.

My faith is deeply rooted in the human spirit. Religionists love to call this humanism, but I don't consider myself a humanist. I believe in God. Not too many people I know who've ever had children think life is an accident. I'm thankful every day for what we're given. I'm thankful Jesus walked on this planet and taught what he taught. I simply don't believe the Bible is the unerring word of the same God who created us all. I think it's a wonderful text full of wonderful bits of wisdom, many of which are incorporated into the ways we deal with each other, or ought to be.

I don't think there's a single lie in the Bible either. I think there's tons of hyperbole and probably a good deal of outright fabrication too, but I don't think there's a single deliberate lie. It doesn't have to be factually true to be free of prevarications. I think it's very likely that everyone involved in producing the texts that eventually became the Bible were doing their very best to express the ideas they considered important and Godly.

Here's the thing: God gave me my mind. It's not a brilliant mind, but it's not a lemon either. I'm just barely smart enough to know that I can't pretend to understand how God works, or whether God is involved in everything that happens in the world, or to have any idea of what will happen to me when I die. I only know that my faith is such that I don't worry about any of that. I've simply never been able to force myself into a mindset that would allow me to start believing in a God of vengeance. That leaves me to believe that whatever God is, he is kind.

If I'm wrong, and God is as so many Christians see him; the ultimate judge and jury; who with Jesus sitting there next to him - though he hates to do it - will nevertheless send those of us who don't believe him to be quite so ruthless to a brimstone Hilton for a few million millennium? Well, I'll surely admit I was wrong and beg for mercy, but inside, in my soul of souls, I'll think far less of him than I do now.

The rules I try to follow rules are prioritized as Jesus said they ought be. I love God, I try to love my friends and enemies, and I do my best to love myself too.

And I swear, when I get those things down, I'll move on to less important things.

Be good to everyone...

(To listen to an audio version of this post, (once Gabcast updates sometime during the day,) click on the podcast with the same title over to the right.)

Good morning Boys and Girls,

At seven o'clock this morning, just a minute ago as I write this, the stars are still out and showing themselves very brightly against the blue-black sky.

In the summer, there are days when I'd have been at work for an hour by now, working outdoors, and doing my best to get as much done as I can before the temperature rises and it gets too hot to do what I do without moving the operation indoors.

This time of year I scan some of the web weather pages each morning to see if, per chance, I wait a few hours, I might be able to work outside a while. It's usually futile, but I'm always hopeful, because I'd rather be cold and work fewer hours while still doing it outdoors than to spend all day - as I will for most of the next three months - working inside. I find myself feeling irritated since I spend so much time simply waiting for things to warm up enough to work on them. The bane of my working life is condensation and bringing cold steel into a warm room means a lag time during which I just can't do much because of the moisture created.

Damn Physics.

Surely there's an area in this country where it never gets much below forty nor much above eighty. I keep looking!

Meanwhile, happily, this weekend I'll once again visit the Great Midwest for a few days. This will be the first time I'll have a laptop with me on a trip. The hotel where I stay out there has wireless internet in all the rooms, meaning this time I won't be hogging the single desktop computer in the lobby all the time or find myself scowling at anyone else using it when I decide I need to check tblog to see if anyone's made a comment I need to respond to - as though it's a matter of life and death.

Last time, early one morning, there was a guy using it to try to find directions to the place he had to get to, and he couldn't figure out mapquest. I glanced over a couple of times from a polite distance and noticed he was having trouble. Plus I heard him swear under his breath in frustration. Finally I offered to show him how it worked.

He thanked me profusely a minute and a half later after I'd printed the map and directions for him. He thought I'd been kind, silly man. I just smiled and nodded and didn't tell him that the only reason I'd helped him was so he'd get the hell out of MY chair and off MY computer.

Hey, possession is nine tenths of the law.

The hotel offers the obligatory complimentary breakfasts each morning that are about what you'd expect them to be. Ya know, the apple juice isn't juice at all, but some sort of apple flavored kool-aid crap; but man oh man, I love the batter they have for us to use in the little make-your-own waffle maker. Mmmmm. Malty!

Yes. It's true. -I'm the kind of person who'd drive 500 miles for a good waffle.


Be good to everyone.