Oh, the wondrous things we'll see, when we go to the grocery

It's still absurdly hot, here in the Lone Star State, so when Sweetie started muttering about her grocery list, this morning, I threw myself on the grenade and volunteered to go. No sense both of us getting all sweated up, and there wasn't a lot of produce on the list so how bad could it be?

So I hied myself over to yon neighborhood Kroger, parked way the hell out where only the wild shopping carts roam, and snagged a tame one from a corral, dodging minivans on my way to the front door. There, I applied all my ninja skills to fend off assaults from various child sports organizations, all trying to sell me the same “value card” that my wife had already purchased from some neighborhood kid the day before.

Inside, things went pretty smoothly. I ducked and weaved, tossing things from the list into my cart, per my wife's carefully-organized list. And then… the pasta aisle, where a tidy 40-ish mother smiled and chatted with four kids of varying ages spread out across the entire aisle. As I approached, hoping to squeeze past the pack to the spaghetti noodles, Mom tried to get all the kids moved to one side. I smiled at her and moved my cart to the other side – at which point the teenaged boy pushing the cart moved it to block my way. His (approximately) six-year-old brother with Down Syndrome put his hands on his hips and, with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, said, “Geez. The other side, dork.”

I just about lost it.

So I shifted back to the other side and slipped past. Mom said, nodding toward the teenager, “I don't know what his problem is. He has his driver's license.” I muttered something along the lines of, “Now that's scary.”

When I was ready to check out, I spotted a line where a very elderly lady was just wrapping it up. I unloaded my stuff and waited while the poor woman tried every way to swipe her credit card except the right one. Poor dear, all hunched over with osteoporosis. She finally got it sorted out and, as she shuffled away behind the bag boy pushing her carts, I thought, I should be so lucky as to be able to do my own shopping if I get to be her age.

I finished my own transaction and was pushing my cart across the parking lot when I spotted a shiny orange Corvette headed down the row toward me. As it passed, I noticed that the driver was the elderly woman from the checkout. She had her gangster lean on and one wrist draped across the top of the steering wheel!

I wonder… would a snazzy sports car help my back and neck problems? Maybe I can get my doctor to write me a prescription for Cooper Mini, or something.

The puck drops here

A couple years ago, we residents of Allen started hearing about the two big malls planned for construction just up the road from our house. With the malls would come a shiny new event center, and with the event center a Central Hockey League (CHL) hockey franchise of our very own. I was pretty sure I'd never heard of the CHL, but a friend pointed out that our as-yet-unnamed hockey team would be in the same league as the Texas Brahmas, with whom I was familiar. Better still, the Brahmas are based in Richland Hills, Texas (near Fort Worth), so we'd have an instant cross-town rivalry.

Over time, the malls and the event center came together. Earlier this year, stores began opening and we learned that our CHL team would be called the Allen Americans. Compared to animal avatars like the Mississippi River Kings' attitude-filled turtle, Odessa's Jackalopes, and the Bossier-Shreveport Mudbugs, "Americans" seemed a bit lacking in pizazz – and, while on the topic, I sort of wish the Americans' red uniforms didn't remind me so much of the hated Detroit Redwings – but we had a shiny new hockey team, and it was good. No, really. In their first season, which started in October, the Americans are currently only two points behind the Southern Conference leading Odessa Jackalopes.

All of that to say that Turtle, her parents, and I finally attended our first Allen Americans game last night, against the Texas Brahmas.

Allen Americans players swarm the Texas Brahmas' net

Initial impressions were generally positive. The event center, which is conveniently located about five minutes from our house, is very nice: brightly lit and very clean – as one would expect from a brand-new facility. It's not a huge venue, so even the nosebleed seats provide a reasonably close-up view of the action. The seats are all nicely padded and, for those with a lot more money than I'll ever have to throw around, skyboxes ring the arena. Jumbotron, check. Flashing, animated advertisements, check. Ice Angels (cheerleader/dancers) in white lycra pants so tight that a single splash of water in the wrong place would turn into an anatomy lesson… check!

More important, the level of play is surprisingly high. The players attack the puck and one another with the same amount of energy and relish as in any NHL game, and about the only real differences I could see were that the passing was not as crisp, nor the goaltending as impenetrable. These guys are a blast to watch, without having to take a second mortgage on your home to buy a ticket.

The only real down side is a significant one for Turtle and me – and a significant one that, if not addressed, will prevent us from supporting our team as we otherwise would have done. The Allen Event Center's ADA compliance feels like a nod and a wink. As far as the seating, at least. When I set about trying to acquire tickets for wheelchair accessible seating, it took me several phone calls and an unanswered voicemail message before I finally gave up on reaching anyone with a clue and went to the box office. There, after about 5 minutes of back and forth and “let me go ask,” I learned that the only accessible seating is on the glass. Not a bad thing in and of itself, as these are prime seats, near one or the other of the goals. The problem is that these are the most expensive seats, at $30 per ticket (as compared to the terrace seats, which cost less than half that). Then, when we showed up for the game, we were repeatedly (but politely) moved every time someone with season seats showed up and wanted our spots. I drew the line when it was suggested that Turtle should have to sit behind the 6'5" fat cat with season tickets.

After the dust settled, everyone was able to see and we had an awesome time, but the lack of accommodation for those who can't climb stairs left a bad taste in my mouth. In fairness, the event center has only been open for a month, and I'm sure the folks who run things are still trying to get their collective act together. I can only hope that the city of Allen, which owns the event center, will pay attention to the feedback it will certainly get from disabled citizens and get it together so we can all support the team.

All in all, we all had a great time at our first Americans game and hope to have the opportunity to cheer on our new team!

At the skate park

I was wondering what Turtle's up to when I'm not around…

On a piano

I need a break from all the election hoo ha. How about you?



Now, if you've got that song stuck in your head and need to dislodge it, I recommend this.

Stuff it

(I admit it. This started as a comment on another blog, but these days I have to fan my faint sparks of inspiration as I find them.)

I ended up having to spend most of the long weekend working, but on general principal refused to crack open the work laptop on Easter. So, while I was flipping channels, trying to find something interesting to watch while waiting for the NCAA game between WKU and USD* to come on, I stumbled on an infomercial for some sort of… well, kind of like a grilled panini maker. Just the sort of thing that looked really cool and easy to use but which would probably sit in the back of some closet until meeting its ignoble end in a garage sale 15 years down the road.

But it wasn't the panini iron that piqued my interest. When they got to the “But wait! There’s more!” part of the spiel, one of the bonus items offered to entice the unwary impulse buyer was a “filling injector” – a sort of large gauge syringe that purported to be the ultimate solution for filling cupcakes with sugary goo, hot dogs with cheez whiz, and…

Well, perhaps it’s best not to dwell on some of the other possible uses.

Anyway, I got to thinking about a discussion Turtle and I had had a couple days earlier about the pros and cons of solid chocolate Easter bunnies vs. the hollow ones. She prefers the solid ones, which she likes to chop into chunks and tuck away, Dahmer style, in the freezer. I prefer the hollow ones because they're easier to eat without dislodging a tooth and, really, what 47-year-old man really needs anything to be solid chocolate?

Filling injector. Hollow chocolate Easter bunny. Marshmallow cream. Chocolate Easter bunny filled with marshmallow cream. Makes you want to throw up just thinking about it, doesn’t it? Or run up the wall, across the ceiling, out the door, and around the house about a dozen times to work off the sugar buzz.

* As listed on ESPN's web site, it was supposed to be on CBS; but the local affiliate apparently decided that the game between Miami and Texas would be more interesting.

Got it covered

While we're on the subject of album covers, check out the fun they're having over at Flickr: The LP portraits Pool.

Fantasy band meme

Via Gwynne via Eric via... aw hell, you get the idea. The idea behind this meme is to take three somewhat random bits of content and create from them a fictitious band, album, and album cover (or CD insert, if you must).

Here are the rules:

• Visit http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
  The first article title on the page is the name of your band.


• Visit http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
  The last four words of the last quote on the page is the title of your album.


• Visit http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/The third picture on the page is your album cover.

Rolls Royce image © Mike Yamin. Used by permission.

Finally, here's Even If It's Wrong, the latest (and only) release by The Boshin War, which fictitiously debuted at #10.

The base image of the Rolls Royce is here. My random Wikipedia article was about The Boshin War. “Even if it's wrong” was my random quote fragment. Unfortunately, I didn't think to make note of the whole thing or who said it.

On the books for 2008

I know what some of you are thinking: “Foo never writes about riding anymore. So he had a crash and wrecked his shoulder. So what? It's cycling, not rowing.”

Well, to these naysayers I'd just like to retort, “Nyehhhh!”

Thanks to the prompting of Squirrel Bait (remember her from last year's MS 150), a sizeable contingent from last year's team and one new member hit the road at 1pm to log our first 20 miles of 2008.

For those of you who like your images a bit more amusing, try on this recent submission to the Dictionary of Image for size. It's been PhotoShopped a little, but the only deviations from reality were the addition of the definition text and a bit of texturing. This water tower for the town of Bourbon, Missouri, is the real deal.

Kind of adds a whole new meaning to the expression, “There must be somethin' in the water”, doesn't it?

How did I get here?

This month's search terms:

• sparks are going to fly cause i'm turned on again (see "friction burns")
• "dilated eyes" eye drops Which reminds me that I still haven't made my opthalmologist appointment.
• jessica alba shoulder ride Blasted thought police...
• buy.pickle.juice Not. While. I. Can. Get. It. For. Free.
• i'm singing a song rolling along "Locomotive Breath", occasionally.
• "rear steering bike" I've read the discussions, but I still think this sounds like a Bad Idea.
• zoom foo Yes, but probably not for another week or two.
• a word for people addicted to riding mountain bikes "Mosquito bait". No, wait. That's two words.
• badonkadonk site:blogspot.com Sounds intriguing.
• ladiesladies "flush them" Dial back the mysogyny, dude. You just need to find the right one. And you might try bathing.
• nabumetone dogs I think I get it: an anti-inflammatory punk rock band. Revolutionary (or not).
  

Now playing: OK Go, Oh No

Shadow World

Turtle e-mailed me a movie file this morning, and I enjoyed it so much that I just had to run right out and find it on YouTube so that I could share it with you. The movie was a Raymond Crowe performance of "What A Wonderful World", acted out with shadow puppets.

I encourage you to watch this and be entertained.

Now playing: Academy of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, Corelli: 12 Concerti Grossi, Op.6

Exxxcellent...

Through The Simpsons' eighteen-year history, we've seen lots of guest celebrities reduced to two dimensions. I've always wondered how I'd look with yellow skin and googly eyes... and now I know.

As part of the non-stop hype for the recently-released Simpsons movie, Burger King has put together a web site where you can upload a picture of yourself, answer a few non-personal questions, and see what the analyzer thinks you'd look like as a cartoon character from the Simpsons. I was frankly surprised by how well this worked.

You can try too. www.simpsonizeme.com

It's okay, Mom

Dry Spell Outlasts Dry Humor. Film at 11:00

I know, it's unconscionable to go as long as I have without posting, but while my current work situation doesn't provide much in the way of entertaining anecdotes, I'm pleased to report that I seem to have appeared on my boss's boss's radar. Is it presumptuous of me to dream that I might someday battle my way out of the cubicle and into an office again?

Maybe not, but I'm far too occupied with exceeding expectations (and getting noticed for it) to concern myself with that, just now.

Meanwhile...

I rediscovered some bicycling poetry I wrote a couple years ago. Since I can't seem to keep track of this stuff, I'm archiving it here.

There once was a C++ coder
Who was known for his powerful odor.
He said, "I commute
And it's hot out, to boot;
But my bike, she's content 'cause I rode 'er."

I'm a big fan of Harry Graham, so...

Willie up the hillside spun,
The price his burning hamstrings paid.
When halfway up he said, "I'm done."
Poor William didn't make the grade.

Willie on a bike of red
Bonked because he had no Gu.
He wore no helmet on his head,
And now he's dead: he bonked it too.

And a wee limerick...

There once was a man from Nantucket
Whose bike was so tough he could huck* it.
He rode off the edge
Of a very high ledge—
They retrieved his remains with a bucket.

* A mountain biking term meaning to... well, throw oneself off a cliff without a second thought, basically.

Foo needs...

No one actually tagged me, but Gwynne posted this meme, and I thought it would be fun. Go to Google and type in your name, followed by the word "needs."

• Foo needs a Bar to do some or all of it's work. You'll get no argument from me. However, I do object to your misuse of punctuation, as well as being reduced to an 'it'.
• Foo needs to actually perform, say in certain cases First only, in others Second only, in others yet, First then Second (if Foo never needs to call Second before, and First after, on its argument, then its unit-tests will not exercise that path). Your lips move, but I can't hear what you say.
• Foo$ needs. You've got that a little backwards. It's "Foo needs $."
• Foo needs to be abstract. Now you're just stating the obvious.
• External callers will have no idea that Foo needs swapped arguments. Maybe, but I find that having any kind of conversation with a telemarketer is rather like talking to a brick wall.
• Foo needs lots of extra page reads. Because it feels good to be needed.
• Foo needs to know how to provide a Bar. Look... if you let me know you're coming, I'll have some Shiner Bock on ice. If you want something with fruit or an umbrella, consult a professional.
• Foo needs to be shared between multiple components. Forget it. I'm, like, totally monogamous.
• Foo needs a stronger incentive. I said FORGET. IT.
• Foo needs to be foo. What else can I be but who I am?
• silly-foo-needs-meme.html — mumble mumble I resemble that remark.

I could go on, but I have things to do. Love ya... buh-bye.

The Easter bunny cometh

Several bunnies, in fact.

Last week, I had finished mowing the lawn and was racing the predicted storms to get the trimming done, when I noticed a tuft of what looked like dryer lint lying on the grass. I looked closer and saw that it was rabbit fluff. I heard a tiny squeaking noise and followed it to a nest of tiny critters. I'd knocked open a bunny nest with the string trimmer. They were so tiny that their fur was still black and their little heads still had that sort of generic shape that could just as well have belonged to newborn puppies.

I consulted St. Turtle of Assisi. One of the babies had a cut across its belly, probably from the string trimmer, but the others looked fine so she suggested we should leave them alone so the mother would come back and take care of them.

As of this morning, they're still out there. They seem to be doing all right and are active enough that they keep knocking the fluff out of their hole. When I come out to check on them, they hear me and start climbing all over one another. Their eyes are still closed, but their heads look more like bunny heads now, and their fur has changed to a more recognizable mix of browns and whites.



In the first picture, you can see one of the bunnies' heads, facing to the left, with a little white stripe on top. The second picture shows one of the babies' bunny butt, as it attempts to burrow its way to the bottom of the pile to take its turn getting warm. To give you a sense of how little these guys are, the hole you see is only about four inches across.

I just hope that they don't decide to take up residence in my yard, tearing up the grass and burrowing under the foundation slab like their mother.

'Nuff said

Transform yourself

It really was wrong of me to show you my M&M alter ego and not tell you where you could go to reinvent yourself. Enter the M&M Character Creator:

Now... go forth and get candy coated.

P.S - Here's my sweet wife...