The Big Green House

Friday, August 30, 2002

 
Okay, I�ve cooled off a little. Still not happy, and still really tired, but my head is no longer spinning around.

In the interim, I�ve done a small amount of research into what can be done about telemarketing. I�m having some difficulty focusing, so I�m just gonna give you the two best links I found, here and here. The upshot is, as far as I can tell, that you put your name on a do-not-call list & hope that the scumsuckers on the other end of the phone respect your wishes. I�m not holding my breath, but I suppose it�s something.

In happier news, my mom is going to be in town for a short visit this weekend. Yay! She hasn�t seen The Big Green House yet, online or off. Um, I think I�ll tell her to check in once today�s posts have been safely archived.

bmarkey 8/30/2002 05:25:00 PM

 
You know what I said about not ranting? Well, that�s out the window.

A message to telemarketers

What the fuck is wrong with you?

I�ve done that kind of work, so I know what it�s like. I quit, as soon as I possibly could, because I realized how impossibly rude it is to disturb utter strangers in their homes and attempt to sell them things that they don�t want.

I came to the conclusion that there is no valid excuse for telemarketing, just a lot of lame bullshit about �providing oppotunities for people to hear about our exciting products/services.� Does anybody actually believe that? Do you? Let me tell you something: I make it a point never to use a product or service that enters my home unbidden, and I�m willing to bet that there are many, many others just like me in that respect.

So let this serve as fair warning - the next one of you motherfuckers who calls me at 8:30 in the fucking morning is going to be seriously regretting their career choice. Some of us work legitimate jobs, at night, and believe it or not we don�t appreciate being awakened from a deep sleep by some yutz in Nebraska or wherever you assholes hide trying to sell us shit.

I have been vibrating with barely-contained rage for over an hour now, trying to breathe through my nose & calm down, because this is not the first time I�ve been awakened in this manner. And don�t tell me to turn my phone off when I go to sleep. A) There is an illness in the family & we need to be accessible at all times, and B) Why should we have to resort to such an extreme measure to get a little peace?

Think about that the next time you go to work.
bmarkey 8/30/2002 09:59:00 AM

Thursday, August 29, 2002

 

Puppies and kittens and meadows

I�ve spent the better part of an hour sitting here, trying to think of something to write for you, the Big Green House reader. So far, all I�ve come up with is cranky, pointless rants about this or that. (Take a look at yesterday�s entry regarding Rick Bayless & you�ll have an idea of what I�m talking about. I�m waiting to hear from his attorneys any day now. For the record: that was an exercise in hyperbole. I was indulging in some mindless cartoon-style violent imagery, and certainly not endorsing the committal of mayhem upon the person of Mr. Bayless. Really.)

Rather than subject you to more of that, I�ll just sit here quietly and think pleasant thoughts.

bmarkey 8/29/2002 08:53:00 PM

Wednesday, August 28, 2002

 

TV Dinners

I enjoy cooking, as you may have figured out by now. I�m not saying I�m terribly good at it, but I can usually crank out something that�s edible & occasionally really tasty, too. Most of what I�ve learned about cooking I�ve picked up from TV. Having worked in various kitchens at various times in my life, I�m somewhat surprised to find myself making that statement. I have picked up a few techniques and recipes through osmosis from this job or that, but on the whole I�ve learned more from PBS Saturday afternoon cooking shows than I ever did in any cafe. So, I thought maybe I�d give y�all a run-down on some of the cooking shows we get up here, in hopes that it may be helpful at some point in your life. At the very least, it will kill some time for me.

I don�t have cable, so I haven�t seen any of the cable guys. Well, I did see an episode of the guy that runs around yelling �BAM!� all the time, while I was visiting my parents a couple of years back. The less said about him, the better. I hear he�s a very good chef, but what I was seeing was all showbiz/cult of personality crap. Any time I see a cooking show that has a live, in-studio audience, I figure the point is entertainment rather than education.

The chef I�ve found to be the most helpful is Jacques Pepin. I�m not all that fond of classic French cooking, to be honest, but I�ve picked up more ideas and techniques from watching him cook than anywhere else. On his newest series, his daughter Claudine serves as a sort of combination prep cook and audience surrogate, asking questions about things Jacques has run through quickly or that the average person might not know. It�s a very effective way of getting things across clearly, and their chemistry together is really fun to watch.

Another chef I enjoy watching is Joanne Weir. The theme music for her show is a crime against humanity, and sometimes her descriptions of the dishes she�s preparing are a bit precious, but I dig watching her cook. Her focus is on the cuisines of the Mediterranean, and she creates some interesting seasonally-based menus. She talks through the cooking process itself very clearly, without a lot of extraneous chitchat. I also like the fact that, if she screws something up, she�ll show how to fix it, rather than editing it out & starting over. Both she and Pepin have taught professionally, and it shows.

However, our local PBS station, for some unknown reason, has chosen to replace Weir Cooking in the Wine Country with Rick Bayless� show. I don�t know if he�s any good; I�ve never been able to watch more than five minutes of the show. Any more than that and I want to fly to Chicago, rip that Playskool hipster beard off of his head, shove him face-down into a bowl of pureed Habaneros & whack him with the business end of my second-best skillet. (The bottom is a little warped, but it�s nice & heavy. Besides, do you think I�m gonna risk denting my best cookware on this smug SOB? Not a chance.) Here�s a clue for the producers of this show: if you�re gonna rely on the personality of your host to carry you through, make sure he�s not some repellent pseudo-boho who, if he were anywhere near as witty as he thinks he is, would erase all memory of Oscar Wilde from the viewer�s mind. It's just TV, I know, and I shouldn't get as worked up about this as I am. But I love Mexican food, and wish I knew more authentic dishes and techniques. If this guy is the way to learn them then I�m just going to have to do without.

I used to really enjoy Michael Chiarello, but it seems as if he�s beginning to succumb to personality chef syndrome. In the Season By Season series, he just seemed like a guy who enjoyed cooking and wanted to share that enjoyment. It was all about the food. Michael Ciarello�s Napa seems to mostly be about, well, Michael Chiarello. He�s become a little industry. Click on that first link & you�ll see what I�m talking about. The guy�s trying to make a living, and while I certainly don�t begrudge him that, I do think that the show has suffered. Which is too bad, really, because I think he�s generally got some good ideas. I�ve learned some tricks from him, but it�s getting more and more difficult for me to watch.

I really don�t want to like America�s Test Kitchen. I find the host obnoxiously smarmy, and I don�t like the way that they�ll �adjust� a recipe to fit the widest group of tasters. That just seems to me to be the surest way of blanding out what might be an interesting dish. That said, I have to admit that I�ve picked up some useful tips from them, and I actually buy the magazine regularly. So I�ll give them a qualified thumb�s up; check it out, but don�t expect to floored or anything.

You�re out for a nice Italian dinner with your sweetie. You�re enjoying the food and conversation, relaxing in your booth and ignoring the rest of the world. The chef comes over to your table to inquire about your dinner. You reply that everything�s fine, dinner�s great. You turn back to your sweetie to continue relating a particularly amusing anecdote when the chef sits down and starts in on a 45 minute soliloquy regarding the difficulty he had finding the proper ingredients for the dish which is rapidly going cold on your plate, the substitutions he made, how his Mama used to make it for him Back Home, etc, all the time oozing synthetic �Olde World Charm� all over you & your date. All you want to do is eat, and this oily mofo won�t let you do it. Kids, Nick Stellino is this chef. Avoid his program at all costs.

Let�s cleanse our palates, before we wrap this up, with a visit to She From Whom All Blessings Flow, Julia Child. In a word, she rocks. She�s the woman who helped America realize that there was a world of food out there beyond pot roast and mashed potatoes. Again, I�m not a huge fan of French food (not everything needs a sauce), but watching Julia cook is always fun at the least & usually educational too.

Damn. Now I�m hungry.

bmarkey 8/28/2002 06:07:00 PM

 

Oy

Lunch today was hummus, turkey, fresh tomato, onion, Thai pickled chili, and cheddar on �Jewish� rye. As I bit into the sandwich, I wondered what it was that made the bread Jewish, and whether it was Orthodox, Conservative or Reform. I hoped it wasn�t Orthodox, as I had made it trafe by mixing meat and dairy. I�m not Jewish myself, but I do try to respect the customs and beliefs of others.

Yes, that�s right � I was concerned that I�d offended the religious beliefs of my sandwich.

I blame the heat. Heat and lack of rain. We haven�t had any rain in about three weeks. I can actually feel my eyeballs desiccating in their sockets, as my brain turns to sand and runs out my ears. That can�t be good, can it?

bmarkey 8/28/2002 04:48:00 PM

Tuesday, August 27, 2002

 

A Short History of Loud Noises

Most dates are approximate.

First concert attended: Blue Oyster Cult, Black Oak Arkansas, and Piper (featuring a young & unknown Billy Squier). Cow Palace, 1977
First show in a club: Fabulous Poodles, some club in San Francisco that began with a �W�, 1978. (Also first date with first serious girlfriend.)
Most recent show: The Knitters, Throw Rag, Jessie Sykes & the Sweet Hereafter, Crocodile Caf�, 2002.
Loudest shows: Neil Young, Rust Never Sleeps tour, Cow Palace, 1978; Husker Du, mid-sized club in Sacramento, 1984-5?; Motorhead, small club in Sacramento, 1986-7?
Band seen most often: Hmm. Probably The Pretenders or The Ramones, around 5 times each.
Last time in the pit: Ramones, Santa Cruz Civic Auditorium, around 1980? �Accidentally� hit in the genitals. Made it through to the end of the show, but wasn�t feeling tip-top.
Strangest double bill witnessed: Heart & the Charlie Daniels Band, Cow Palace, 1978-9?
Creepiest moment at a show: Alice Cooper cover band, somebody�s basement, 1979 � the bass player was basically coerced into taking a solo, clearly against his will, by the lead singer.
Runner-up, creepiest moment at a show: The Jam, Fox-Warfield Theater, 1982 � Paul Weller referred to a female stage-diver as �you fat c**t� during final encore. Audience visibly deflated, after an otherwise good show, by appalling sexism of Weller.
Personally sweated upon by: Elvis Costello, Santa Cruz Civic Auditorium, 1981.
What I did instead of attending my high school graduation rehearsal: free outdoor Ramones show in front of San Francisco City Hall, 1979.
What I did for my fortieth birthday: Big Star, Death Cab For Cutie, Posies (acoustic), Showbox Theater, 2000.
Most pathetic band moment: The Alarm opening for Bob Dylan, California State Fairgrounds, 1988. Talk about being out of your league�
Most pathetic personal moment: U2, The Waterboys, San Francisco Civic Auditorium, 1983. Attended this show with a girlfriend who�d dumped me three days beforehand. We�d had tickets for months & there was no way in hell I was going to A) miss this show, or B) let that asshole boyfriend of hers have my ticket. Show = good, me = miserable.
Most bands on one bill: Ted Nugent, AC/DC, Blue Oyster Cult, Cheap Trick, Journey, some fifth-rate 70�s �hard-rock� band, Oakland Coliseum, 1978.
Shows I could have attended, didn�t, and now wish I had: Sex Pistols final show, Winterland, 1978; The Last Waltz, Winterland, 1976; Nirvana, Kaiser Auditorium, New Year�s Eve 1994.
Most disappointing cancellation: XTC, 1982. Andy Partridge suffered an enormous bout of stage fright the night before and cancelled the rest of the tour. My then-GF (the one from the U2 show) and I had driven down from Sacramento to San Francisco that day & only heard about the cancellation on the radio in a little shop we were in, about 6 hours before showtime.



bmarkey 8/27/2002 05:58:00 PM

Monday, August 26, 2002

 

Well I Never!

I have never done any of these things:

Played golf on a course that didn�t have Astroturf putting greens and a fiberglass dragon guarding the 18th hole.
Shot a man in Reno just to watch him die. (When I was in fourth grade I did poke a third grader with a really sharp pencil just to watch him squirm, but that�s hardly the same thing.)
Seen any of the following movies: E.T.; Forrest Gump; Jurassic Park; Dude, Where�s My Car?.
Spelunked.
Eaten escargot. (And I can guarantee that this item will not move from this list.)
Made a down-payment on anything.
Lost a toe.
Birthed no babies. (Don�t know nothin� �bout it.)
Burned the corner of my eye on a hot cookie sheet. Oh, wait, yes I did.
Been through the desert on a horse with no name.
Been through the desert on a horse with a name.
Watched an entire episode of Oprah.
Finished an all-day sucker.
Thought that the designated-hitter rule was a good idea. (Sorry, Edgar.)
Found Jerry Seinfeld especially funny.
Wanted a manicure.






bmarkey 8/26/2002 08:33:00 PM

 

With great power comes great responsibility

Today has been a very eventful day at the online version of The Big Green House. (Versus the one I actually live in.) Someone from a Saudi Arabian IP address googled the phrase �sierra mix fuck�, at 6:10 AM here, 5:10 PM their time.

We ranked #12.

I�m just not sure what to make of all this. On the one hand, I�m amused to ranked on Google at all, given the tiny number of hits I get. (9, on an average day, 6 of which are either myself checking in on things or Science Girl checking up on me.) And number twelve, at that! Granted, it�s for a somewhat offbeat combination of words, but still...

On the other hand, there is That Word. Of all the words I�ve used here, I have to get ranked for that one. I really try not to use it often, mainly because I think that overuse undercuts the impact. In fact, I think that that�s the only time I�ve used it here, but I�m too lazy to go back & check. And it occurs to me that, now that I�ve used the actual phrase on the site, I may have rocketed to number one. Eep. Does this mean I�m on the A-list now?

Well, I promise to use my new power and fame for good, and rarely for evil.

As for the unknown googler: I hope you find whatever you were looking for, although given the parameters of your search I doubt you found it here. We strive to be a full-service blog, but there are some services which we do not provide. Perhaps this will be more helpful. (NB - that link is not safe for work.) At any rate, peace be upon you.
bmarkey 8/26/2002 11:23:00 AM

Saturday, August 24, 2002

 

August is the cruelest month

That loud noise coming from the northwest is me sighing in relief at the approach of fall and the end of the annual burden of summertime. Just have to get through the inevitable indian summer and then I�m home free. Very few things in life make me as happy as a cool autumn morning.

Yep, fall is coming on, however slowly. You can feel it in the air; all the plants in the garden are putting in overtime, trying to get in that last growth spurt, sucking in as much sun as their deep green leaves will hold. We have an abundance of tomatoes, the first of which are within a day or two of being ripe. The broccoli is showing no signs of heading yet, but we are patient. Carrots and onions are coming in at their own pace. We had fresh cucumber with lunch. Our oregano never came up, which makes me sad indeed, but the basil is making up for it. One can never have enough basil. Or enough garlic, for that matter. I�m not sure why we didn�t plant garlic, but we didn�t.

We�re planning the winter garden this weekend. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
bmarkey 8/24/2002 07:52:00 PM

Friday, August 23, 2002

 

Miles, Meet Ernest

There are very few places at which my record collection intersects with that of my father. Our tastes are pretty divergent - which is only to be expected, I guess. (Actually, we don�t see eye to eye on a lot of topics.) One thing I will always be grateful to him for is turning me on to Country music at an early age. When I was a kid, Dad would bring home records by Ernest Tubb, Buck Owens, Johnny Cash, and Hank Williams (Senior, of course), and I just ate them up. Still love them, to this day.

What I found interesting, though, is that before my Mom & Dad married they were big Jazz buffs. In there among the Merle Haggard albums were sides by Miles Davis and Dave Brubeck. And, of course, my favorite Xmas album. Every now and then my Dad would drag out his copy of Jazz Goes to College or Time Out, but most of the time, if he was gonna play any music, it was Fightin� Side of Me or Johnny Cash Live at Folsom Prison. And so I picked up that side of things, too. The Rock & Roll thing I pretty much did on my own.

Lastly, Merle Haggard oranges!

bmarkey 8/23/2002 07:24:00 PM

 

Silver Wings

I would give just about anything to be able to sing like either John Doe or Merle Haggard. I really want to know why somebody hasn�t gotten those two together for a duet. It just seems like such an obvious combination. Someone needs to look into this.

Go. Do my bidding. And bring me back some salt & vinegar chips while you�re at it.

bmarkey 8/23/2002 05:11:00 PM

Thursday, August 22, 2002

 

They Called It Rock

I was in one of my darker moods today, for one reason or another; Science Girl said I had my mopey face on, which is accurate. She did her best to cheer me up, (and a fine job she did, too), but I was still a little out of sorts as I was getting ready for work. I�ve usually got my walkman in my bookbag, for the long bus ride. I grabbed a couple of old tapes sitting on the shelf, stuck one in the player and headed out the door.

I have the bad habit of not labeling tapes I make for myself. If it�s for some one else, I go the whole nine yards � cover, tracklist, etc. If it�s for me, why bother? It�s a sort of musical Russian roulette, because I can never be sure of what I�m going to hear when I press play. It�s a pain in the ass when I�m looking for a particular tape, but it also introduces an element of randomness into life, which can sometimes lead to Happy Accidents.

In the case, it turned out to be a mix tape I�d made back around 1987 � 88. The Eighties were a difficult time for me, for a lot of reasons � none of which I�m going to go into here - but there were some scattered moments of real bliss here and there, strewn among the land mines. I made this tape during one of those up periods.

And it was just the thing I needed to hear at that moment. I was smiling to myself by the second verse of the leadoff track, and continued to do so until the tape ran out 45 minutes later. Pete Townshend said it best; Rock & Roll won�t solve your problems, but it will let you dance all over them. And if I could go back in time, I�d pay a visit to my 27-year-old, mullet-headed self and thank me for salvaging my day.

And in case you�re curious, here�s the tracklist, written down at last:

Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers � American Girl
The Plimsouls - How Long Will It Take?
REM - It�s the End of the World as We Know It
Hoodoo Gurus � I Want You Back
Pete Townshend & Ronnie Laine � My Baby Gives It Away
Elvis Costello & the Attractions � Pump It Up
Dave Edmonds � Girls Talk
Nick Lowe � They Called It Rock
The Modern Lovers � Roadrunner
The Bangles � Going Down to Liverpool
The Pretenders � Day After Day
Holly & the Italians � Tell That Girl to Shut Up
X � Fourth of July

bmarkey 8/22/2002 08:04:00 PM

Wednesday, August 21, 2002

 

Wanted: Five-Foot Frying Pan

Did I mention the catfish nightmares last night? Well, not really nightmares � vaguely disturbing dreams would probably be more accurate, all starring our friend the flathead. So of course I�ve been looking around for catfish information today, because I�m stupid that way.

It seems that the world record flathead was 91.25 pounds, caught on Lake Lewisville, Texas, in 1982. Not noodled, I�m guessing, but I couldn�t find out for sure.

Need to know what kind of catfish you�ve just grabbed?
No problem.

How are ya gonna cook him? Here�s somewhere to start looking for recipes. (Note: when googling �catfish recipes�, you will be inundated by catfish bait recipes rather than ideas on how to cook the damn things. As we now know, however, the only bait you need is dangling at the end of your arm.)

Need a hat? (I don�t know why you would, if you�re gonna be underwater grappling with big-ass fish, but maybe you want some thing to wear on your head while waiting for the ambulance.) They�ve got �em.

OK. I think I've gotten it out of my system.

bmarkey 8/21/2002 06:33:00 PM

 

Noodle-mania!

Apparently I am way behind the curve on noodling. First of all, it ain�t just Okies participating in it - it appears to be a relatively widespread practice throughout the South. ESPN has covered it. Hell, even The Atlantic Monthly has weighed in on noodling. Why am I always the last to know?

When I was a kid, we used to go fishing for channel cats in the Sacramento Delta. The biggest cat I ever remember seeing was about a foot and a half long, weighing maybe a couple of pounds. My sister and I both got out hands cut several times by catfish wiskers, which as I recall was fairly painful. So, for these guys to be taking on 50-60 pound cats mano a mano, so to speak, on the fishes home turf... man, I tip my hat to �em.

bmarkey 8/21/2002 11:47:00 AM

Tuesday, August 20, 2002

 

Okie Noodling

Just when I think that life cannot possibly get any weirder, I find out that it has in fact been weirder, for hundreds of years. Our local PBS station ran a film tonight on �Okie Noodling�, the Oklahoman practice of catching 60-pound catfish with your bare hands. This is news to me on two fronts: 1) that such a practice exists, and 2) that there is such a thing as a 60-pound catfish. I wish I�d known that they were going to show this so I could have taped it. I need to see this film.

bmarkey 8/20/2002 09:16:00 PM

 

Annoyances for Christ

Within the past week and a half we�ve been visited by the Unitarians, the Jehovah�s Witnesses, and the Mormons. They all show up around 9 � 9:30 in the morning, and they all walk right past two No Soliciting signs, at the beginning of the walkway and again right at the front door. Perhaps we need a No Proselytizing sign.

At least they�re not telemarketing. Yet.

bmarkey 8/20/2002 04:55:00 PM

Monday, August 19, 2002

 

Click Click

Because this is all about getting strangers to look at me, here are some pictures. Trust me, I'm sparing you from the really cute dog pics.
bmarkey 8/19/2002 10:24:00 PM

 
Stand by. Archivey weirdness in effect.
(Moments later) Ok, all is well. I just scared the poop out of myself, is all. As you were.
bmarkey 8/19/2002 09:19:00 PM

 

Evening at the Improv

She was a busy & somewhat stressed-out Science Girl this weekend, so I wanted to surprise her with a nice Sunday dinner. Nothing too fancy (we�re not really fancy people, to tell the truth), but something a little more elegant than the burritos I�d planned. She was out all day & I�d made plans to help my friend Melissa with some yardwork, so once we�d finished weeding I convinced Melissa to take me to the market so I could pick up a few things. Of course I hadn�t planned anything beforehand, because I am a yutz, but on the way to the store I worked out what I wanted to make.

I knew I had some green beans that needed to be eaten soon, so that was a start. We don�t generally eat red meat, so I headed for the poultry aisle & got some boneless, skinless chicken breasts. (Free-range AND on sale! The gods of shopping were looking out for me.) Over to the produce department for garlic and a shallot. The cheese section was right there, so I picked up some shredded Parmesan on a whim. I was looking for some bulk rice when I spotted a saffron risotto mix & couldn�t say no. Yeah, I know, I should be making my own risotto. I�m lazy; sue me.

The wine took a little longer to pick out. I�ve never been all that fond of white wine, but I know that Science Girl prefers it. I was looking for a Sauvignon Blanc when Melissa pointed out a Chardonnay from Hawk Crest that she�d liked. I�m leery of most Chardonnays these days because they�re usually so buttery they�re almost greasy, but Melissa generally has good taste in wine. Besides, it was on sale. Into the cart it went.

I�ve already described how I cook green beans (which, I should mention, is straight out of Jacques Pepin�s Table), and I�m not going to bother telling you how to make packaged risotto. Instead, here�s what I did with the chicken, once I knew when SG was coming home: In a large skillet, I saut�ed some chopped onion in a little olive oil; once it became transparent, I added some minced garlic, a little oregano and some marjoram. I�d forgotten to get fresh tomatoes at the market, so I added a can of unsalted chopped tomato and let it all simmer together for a bit while I washed & dried the chicken. In went the chicken, covered by a few of the tomato pieces, along with some salt & cracked black pepper. I covered it & let it simmer for about 20-25 minutes, stirring things up a little every now and then. Just before serving, I sprinkled a little of the Parmesan on top of the breasts.

I don�t imagine I�ve invented a new dish; as I recall, it�s not to far from chicken cacciatore. Still, I�m pleased that I could pull it together on the fly, so to speak. And the wine complimented things nicely, so it all worked out pretty well. I got a big smooch from SG, which was all the reward I could ask for. And that�s as much as I�m telling.

bmarkey 8/19/2002 07:35:00 PM

Sunday, August 18, 2002

 

Drinking Brew and Breakfast

Scrambled eggs are the traditional Sunday breakfast here in the Big Green House. I don�t have much confidence in my ability to turn an omelette without coating the kitchen (and myself) in egg; otherwise I�d be all Frenchified & shit. As it is, I try to incorporate as much produce into the scramble as the eggs will tolerate. It�s also a great way to clean out the fridge.Today�s special: mushrooms, red bell pepper, a smidge of leftover Cheddar, and basil & green onion fresh from the garden. Not bad, if I do say so myself. A couple of cups of coffee for Science Girl, a pot of tea for myself, and some rye toast for both & we�re in business.

We gave our homebrew another taste last night, and while Sierra Nevada is in no danger of being put out of business, I have to say that I�m really happy with the way it is turning out. As it has matured, it�s become more complex, and more bitter. If you want to make an analogy to the human growth process, I won�t stand in your way.

While we were out and about yesterday, we found a place that sells cans of Young�s Luxury Double Chocolate Stout. (OK, so I can't link directly to the proper page. Click on Beers, then click on the Doulbe Chocolate label as it scrolls past. I'm just trying to keep you from becoming indolent. It's for your own good, really.) In the interests of Science, and out of a sense of duty to you, the faithful reader of the Big Green House, I felt obligated to pick some up and give it a try. Everything I�ve ever read about brewing says that beer & fats do not mix - any fat, in the beer or on the glass, will kill the head on your pint faster than watching Dog Eat Dog and Fear Factor back to back will drop your IQ. Knowing that chocolate contains at least one fat compound made me curious.

Here�s my report: the head started out fairly well, thanks to the same nitro-widget technology employed by the good folks at Guiness, but dissipated about two sips into the pint. The beer itself smells and tastes like slightly naughty Yoo-Hoo; the chocolate is there, but weak, and there�s a bit of the traditional stout bite at the end. I don�t know that I�d recomend it, but I wouldn�t steer someone away from it either. It�s a pleasant curiosity, and that�s about it.
bmarkey 8/18/2002 01:34:00 PM

Friday, August 16, 2002

 

The Torture Never Stops

I am at work.

They are playing Edith Piaf over the in-house sound system.

I cannot make it stop.

Pray for me.
bmarkey 8/16/2002 07:22:00 PM

 

Pointless non-sequitor Brady Bunch reference ahoy!

I would like to take this opportunity to express my heartfelt gratitude to the person or people responsible for inventing the washing machine. Thank you, whoever you were.

We have the �new� washer hooked up and operating. To coin a phrase, �Woo-hoo!� Now, when moving the clothes over to the dryer, I no longer have to wring out copious amounts of water first. And the agitator actually works. Huzzah! We can have truly clean clothes once more. Life is good again. Fish are jumpin�, and the cotton is� well, I think you see where I�m going with this.

The �new� dryer, alas, is another story. (�Here�s the story / Of a man named Kenmore�� What? Where the hell did that come from?) It appears to be too big to fit down the admittedly narrow stairway leading to our basement. Science Girl thinks we can remove part of the backing of the dryer to make it fit; I remain skeptical. I suppose we�ll see tomorrow, when we take another stab at moving it.

In the meantime, the old dryer is still chugging along, doing its best. It�s not so much a �dryer� as it is a �makes things slightly less damp-er�, if you follow me. Still, any port in a storm, eh?

bmarkey 8/16/2002 05:57:00 PM

Wednesday, August 14, 2002

 

Some Reasons as to Why I Live Here

OK, where were we? Oh yeah, I was gonna tell you kids why yer ol� Uncle B luvs Seatown. Aside from the fact that my one & only lives here, of course. That goes without saying.

Well, let�s start with the climate. Perhaps you�ve heard of Seasonal Affective Disorder, or SAD; it�s a depression brought on by a lack of sunlight during the winter months. All the cool kids around here get it. Anyway, I�ve diagnosed myself as having Reverse Seasonal Affective Disorder - the sunnier it gets, the worse I feel. The bummer of summer, if you will. It�s perverse, yes, but nonetheless true. California was very bad for my head, in this way, while Washington caresses my fragile little brain with at least the possibility of clouds and rain the whole year through.

And we have actual seasons up here! Bonus! The only way you can tell that it�s winter in the Bay Area is that it rains then & gets slightly colder. Here, the leaves change color in the fall, the flowers go crazy in the spring� it�s great. And every winter but one, since I�ve been here, has had at least one good day of snow. I was 34 when I left CA; in that whole time I think it snowed where I was living maybe 3-4 times. And I think I�ve already mentioned the difference in summertime temps.

The people here, as I mentioned the other day, are pretty nice if sometimes a little reserved with strangers. That�s not an inaccurate description of myself, though, so I generally feel right at home.

We have more book stores and movie theaters in town than is strictly decent, and the pubs are great, as well. And I could spend the rest of the night finding local music links for you, but why should I do all the work? (Relax, I�m saving it for later.)

I could go on and on, and I�m sure I will at some point, but work calls & I must answer.

bmarkey 8/14/2002 07:28:00 PM

Tuesday, August 13, 2002

 

I had planned to extol the virtues of Washington state tonight, but I�ve had a couple of unexpected projects fall into my lap. (And who�s going to pay for the dry cleaning, I�d like to know?) Before I get going on them, I�d like to mention one more small thing I miss about CA: namely, the ability to buy hard liquor in the grocery store. Not that I buy a lot of booze, mind you, but I like the convenience of being able to pick up a bottle of gin on a whim if I feel like making martinis with dinner. Here, the state has a monopoly on hard liquor sales. This means you have to go to the state-run liquor store - which opens late, closes early, and is not open at all on Sunday. Every couple of years I hear rumors that they�re going to open liquor sales to private enterprise, but it ain�t happened yet.

Perhaps I�ll be able to get back to this tonight & tell y�all why I love it here in the Great Pacific Northwest, but don�t hold yer breath.



bmarkey 8/13/2002 06:37:00 PM

Monday, August 12, 2002

 

CA vs. WA, Part One

Science Girl, being a native of Seattle, gets a little defensive when I compare things here to California. It�s understandable. Seattle was over-run with ex-pat Californians during the late-eighties/early nineties, driving up the housing prices & bitching about the rain. Flaky, clueless, and tanned, they were the ones honking their car horn if you didn�t take off the second the light turned green.

By the time I got here, there was a deep-seated resentment toward all things Californian. Fortunately the natives are usually too polite to say it to your face, but the sentiment that we ruined it for everybody is definitely in the air. SG says, �The only reason we didn�t declare all-out war is that the New Yorkers are more obnoxious.� Which is true, of course; transplanted New Yorkers are a breed unto themselves.

I like to think that I�m not one of the bad exotics. I really do love living here. The people are generally pleasant, if sometimes a bit standoffish. (There is a very large Scandinavian influence here, for good and for ill. While folks are usually polite and helpful, there�s a sense that if you�ve already got friends you�d be a fool to make more.) It�s a physically beautiful area; snowcapped mountains, water everywhere you turn (a real novelty for us Californians in exile), rugged coastline, big frickin� trees, the works. And for someone like me, who thrives on wet and cloudy days, it�s paradise on earth.

All that being said, there are a few things I miss about my native state. Not enough to move back there, of course, but if they were here it would be an even better place, in my opinion:

1) Mexican food. That Scandinavian influence I mentioned above really comes into play here. If you�ve ever tried a frozen �Fiesta� TV dinner, you�ve experienced the level of� zest I�m talking about. It is possible to find good tamales here, but you�ve really gotta hunt for �em.

2)The Giants. Yeah, I know, we�ve got the Mariners. I know that the Mariners are, technically, a better team than the Giants, but I lived, ate, slept and bled orange and black when I was living down there. The Mariners were fun in �95, don�t get me wrong. I was at each and every one of those amazing playoff games against the (hated) Yankees, and I will remember them for the rest of my life. Truth be told, though, I just can�t maintain an interest in American League ball.

3)The de Young Museum. The Seattle Art Museum� well, I was taught at an early age if you can�t say something nice, don�t say anything at all. Let�s just say I miss the de Young and leave it at that.

Those are the big three. I�m probably missing a few, but that�s what I�m coming up with right now. Tomorrow: things that CA could learn from WA.

bmarkey 8/12/2002 11:20:00 PM

Sunday, August 11, 2002

 

Saturday, or My Life in a Nutshell

Lucy is not a dog who handles heat well , which puts a bit more credence into the old saw about dogs growing to resemble their people & vice versa. As I�ve whined about recently, it�s been warmer than usual here in Seatown; we actually broke the 80 degree mark, at one point. This means that when we go for a walk, Lucy sprints from shady spot to shady spot, only to lie down and refuse to budge once she finds some cool relief.

Since her coat had gotten a little long, we decided to make an appointment with the groomer. (Science Girl & I decided, that is; we didn�t actually consult the dog.) Alas, the only spot available on Mrs. Pets� appointment calendar was Saturday morning at 8:00. If you�ve been reading along, you�ll recall that A) that�s the very crack of dawn in our household, and B) I haven�t been sleeping well at all, lately. Over the previous 72 hours I�d gotten somewhere between 15-18 hours of sleep, so the prospect of getting up at 7AM so my dog could make her hair appointment did not appeal. The poor little critter was obviously miserable, though, so I said OK and planned to make an early night of it Friday.

Complicating matters slightly was the fact that I�d also made arrangements to pick up a washer and dryer from a friend who�d just bought a new set. The washer and dryer that came with the house (and are cleverly not included in the rental agreement) just don�t work worth a damn, frankly, and I couldn�t turn down the opportunity to pick up a set which we knew worked. So, I called U Haul on Friday; they had a truck that I could use, but it would only be available to us between 1 - 4PM. No worries there - I�d get up early & take the dog to the groomers, come back home, catch a little power nap and wake up ready and rarin'� to go pick up the appliances.

I went to bed around 12:30 Friday night, falling asleep as soon as head met pillow. So far, so good. Around 4 AM I was awakened by one of those mysterious noises one hears in the night - there�s no discernible cause for it, but it wakes you from a deep sleep & keeps you hanging, wakefully, wondering what it was and if it will happen again. I finally got back to sleep around 5.

Waking at seven was somewhat painful, but not debilitating. We left about 7:30, since we were walking the 15 blocks to the groomers. Once there, Lucy decided that she wasn�t keen on being left there, so she tried to bite Mrs. Pet. This was embarrassing, but Mrs. Pet took it all in stride. She said they�d call if they had any other trouble with Lucy, but that more than likely it was separation anxiety. At any rate, she thought they�d be done with her around 11.

I got home around 8:30, very definitely ready for a nap. I had just started drifting off when the phone rang; it was my friend, wanting to confirm that we were going to pick up the washer and dryer, and wondering why I hadn�t waited at the groomers. (She takes her dogs to the same place, and had scheduled them to be trimmed Saturday as well.) We talked for a bit, comparing notes on dog behavior; when we hung up, it was straight to the couch for me. (Science Girl keeps later hours than I do, so she was still in bed & I didn�t want to awaken her.)

Ten minutes later, the phone rang again. �May I speak to (Science Girl�s real name)?�
�Uh, I�m sorry, she�s out right now. Can I take a message?�
�Well, is there anyone there authorized to make decisions regarding your phone service?�
*Angry pause*
�Yeah, I am. We�re happy with the existing service. You guys need to take us off of your call list, right now. And you�ve got a hell of a lot of nerve, calling me at 9:30 on a fucking Saturday morning!� Slam! goes the phone; I lay down on the couch and seethed for a good twenty minutes, right up to the point where the knock on the door came.

Oh joy, it�s the Unitarian church, come to... well, I never did find out why they came, since I politely told them I was busy, pointed out the �No Soliciting� sign they�d passed on their way to the front door, and sent them on their way.

When did the Unitarians start going door-to-door?

Back to the couch, growing less and less optimistic about napping, but hope springs eternal, etc. Within ten minutes, sure enough, it�s the phone again; U Haul has a truck available earlier than expected. I thank the guy, sit down on the couch, realize the futility of even attempting sleep at this point, and give up.

Science Girl got up around this time. She commiserated for a bit, then asked when Lucy would be ready to pick up. As it was 10:35 by this point, I decided to go pick up Lucy, if she was ready, while SG got ready to go pick up the truck. (This is the part of the day that actually went pretty much as planned. As such, it�s OK to skip ahead to the next catastrophe if you want to, since you won�t be missing much.) The Dog was ready to go (and very happy to see me) so we walked back home.

SG was all set by the time we arrived, so we walked down to the Transit Center & caught the bus over to the U Haul place. They were out of appliance dollies, but we figured we could make do with a regular handtruck.

Picking up the appliances went surprisingly smoothly. It wasn�t until we tried to get them through the doorway & down into our basement that we ran into any trouble - there just wasn�t enough space to get washer and handtruck through at the same time. We decided, given my state of exhaustion, that it would probably be wiser to just leave them in the driveway and wrestle with them later.

While we were home, SG checked the phone messages. There was a call from a family member, to the effect that there was an emergency in progress & could she call back ASAP. (As it turns out, it was a non-emergency, but we didn�t know that at the time.) Since we had promised to have the truck bask to U Haul before 4 PM, I drove it back myself while SG called the relative to find out what was up. �I might have to go over there while you�re gone�, she said. I said that she should do what needed to be done, and I�d be here when she got back.

What I hadn�t taken into account was that, before we went to pick up the truck, I�d left my house keys on the kitchen counter. SG was bringing hers, and I knew, from past experience, that keys in the pocket get in the way when moving large objects. So, when I returned from dropping off the truck, hot, tired and hungry...

Yep. Locked out.

It�s times like these when I�m grateful for the time I spent driving a truck for a living, since I was able to there acquire the colorful vocabulary such a situation requires.

I tried all the doors and windows. Doors locked, windows open but too high for a short, middle-aged guy like myself to reach. *sigh* It was then that I began to wonder if I were channeling the spirit of Buster Keaton.

I went to the local pub and got some lunch. The screaming child at the next table was but a minor irritation, by this point. On my way back home, I stopped into a corner market & picked up some beer, just in case I had to wait for a while. This turns out to have been the smartest move I made all day.

Of course SG was still out when I got back, so I pulled up a lawn chair by the side of the garage, cracked a beer, and contemplated the atrocities I must have committed in my previous life. After another beer, a nap seemed worth trying again, so I lay down on the dead grass & hoped the neighbors wouldn�t think I�d drunk myself into a stupor, only to pass out in the yard.

After an unknown but welcome passage of time, I awoke. It then occurred to me that I could boost myself up to the living room window with the lawn chair. Duh! I did so, and managed to climb in, scraping the skin off the inside of my left arm, cutting my right knee, and bruising a rib or two in the process. I can only imagine what the neighbors thought upon seeing my pasty white legs, flailing around, sticking out of the window. To be honest, I don�t really give a rat�s ass. I was inside.

Just to wrap up an overly long post, SG returned several hours later. We had a nice frozen dinner and relaxed on the couch. The fact that the DVD of Rushmore she�d rented from Netflix was so severely scratched that we couldn�t watch the last quarter of it was almost to be expected.

Today, we are taking it easy.


bmarkey 8/11/2002 03:00:00 PM

Friday, August 09, 2002

 

That boy is about as sharp as a bowling ball

Still hot, still not much sleep, so here's my blanket apology for anything stupid I might write today. That's if I end up writing anything - my brain is emptier than usual right now.

(Edit) Than again, I just checked the temperature where my parents live: it's 102, down from 103. So, as always, it could be worse.

bmarkey 8/09/2002 04:40:00 PM

Thursday, August 08, 2002

 
The archive fairies have granted my wish! Yipee! Now I feel like a real boy.
bmarkey 8/08/2002 07:42:00 PM

 

It�s not the heat, it�s the humility

I grew up in California, on the other side of the Berkeley hills. Summertime temps when I was a kid would hang around the low 90�s, with the occasional spike up to, say, 105.

I spent most of my twenties living in Sacramento, where it was not at all unusual to see the thermometer hit 110 - and stay within five degrees of it - for a week or two. The act of opening your eyes in the morning was enough to make you start sweating.

It occurred to me today that, as of August 5th, I�ve been in Seattle for 8 years now. What made me think of it was the �hot spell� we had today. Our high temp: 79. I�ve lived here long enough for that to actually feel hot.

bmarkey 8/08/2002 07:39:00 PM

 

Fun, Fun, Fun on the Autobahn

On my way to work today, I saw a rather somber looking guy, maybe 23 - 24 years old, wearing a Kraftwerk t-shirt. Now, I know what that would have meant in, say, 1980, but what the hell does it mean now?
bmarkey 8/08/2002 04:07:00 PM

 

Complain With Me!

I am a morning person by nature. Left to my own devices, I would go to bed around 11:30 PM & get up at 6:30 - 7:00. As luck would have it, though, my job requires my presence (physically, anyway) until midnight. Since I ride the bus, this means that I don�t get home until 12:35. Science Girl, who is a confirmed night person, rides another bus home, getting her here at 1:00 AM. (Lucy and I meet her at the bus stop.) What with catching up on our respective days & decompressing from work, I�m usually in bed by 2:30.

All fine and good if one can sleep in. This one can�t. I appear to be hard-wired to rise with the sun, no matter what time I actually fall asleep. And given the insane amount of light available in a Northwestern summer�s day, sleep becomes a pleasant, if vague, memory.

And then, of course, this morning I had the pleasure of being awakened at 8:15 by the gentle sound of my dog retching at the foot of the bed. Add to this the fact that today is garbage collection and recycling day, which is never the quietest morning of the week, and it all adds up to a very cranky me.
bmarkey 8/08/2002 10:48:00 AM

Wednesday, August 07, 2002

 
For anyone visiting here from the MeFi Swap � hang in there. I�ve got the mix all worked out, so it�s just a matter of beating our CD burner into submission. It�s frustrating, because I worked out the sequencing on tape about two weeks ago. I�m ready to go, but Science Girl�s PC is not. We think we have a handle on the problem now, and if everything goes as planned I�ll begin burning tonight. Really. Your patience will pay off.
bmarkey 8/07/2002 09:17:00 PM

 

The Way To A Man�s Heart Is Through His Feet

Yet another reason why I have the bestest girlfriend in the whole world: There is a new pair of these (black) waiting for me at home, and I didn�t even ask for them - nor is it my birthday. She saw them in the store, knew that I liked them, and got them. If that ain�t love, I don�t know what is.

bmarkey 8/07/2002 07:55:00 PM

 

A Correction

I have been informed that sparrows are not quality birds; rather, they are quantity birds. My most profuse apologies for any confusion my error may have caused.
bmarkey 8/07/2002 10:21:00 AM

Tuesday, August 06, 2002

 

Noontime Terror

When we moved into the Big Green House, Science Girl�s mother (I guess that would make her Science Mom, wouldn�t it?) gave us a bird feeder and a bag of sunflower seeds. �These are black oil seeds, so you�ll attract the quality birds�, she said. �Finches, wrens, sparrows�you know.� I wondered to myself which ones the trash birds might be. Were they the birds from broken nests? The ones that never had the opportunities presented to the quality birds? Were they bitter about their place in bird society � little feathered class warriors? Or did they find solace in the warm numbness of Pyracantha berries & cheap bird floozies? Was there, in fact, a Charles Bukowski bird out there somewhere, destroying his liver in the name of art?

I never got to find out, of course, because within a couple of days of hanging up the feeder, we were inundated with flying indigents looking for a meal. All quality birds, I�m assuming, although we didn�t check ID�s. They empty the feeder in about a day and half, lining up on the fence to await their turn at the trough. Sometimes they become impatient, swooping over to the feeder and beating the bird in "their" spot with their wings. This is not quality behavior where I�m from, but perhaps in avian culture things are different.

Anyway, to the point: this morning I was delayed in refilling the feeder by some minor problems around the house. Usually I refill right after Lucy�s walk, which would put it at around 9:30 or so; today I wasn�t able to get to it until around 11:30. When I took the empty feeder off of its hook, I noticed a few chickadees waiting patiently in the nearby tree. By the time I brought the full feeder back outside, I was faced with about 25 � 30 angry-looking finches staring at me, lined up along the top of the fence. I swear to you, I am not anthropomorphizing them � these birds were pissed. Remembering my Hitchcock, not to mention my Brooks, I put the feeder back on its hook and slowly backed away.

I�m still shaking.

bmarkey 8/06/2002 08:43:00 PM

Monday, August 05, 2002

 

What We Did This Weekend

We tasted a couple of beers from our first home-brewed batch. It�s still pretty green, but it�s not awful. We were attempting a clone of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale; while there is a small similarity, it�s a very pale shadow of the original. I think I might try dry-hopping it next time, in an attempt to get that bitterness that makes Sierra Nevada so gooood. Brewing is fun, and can be as easy or as difficult as you want to make it. It�s fairly economical, too; if you�re buying micro-brews or imports you�ll see a significant savings, and the initial outlay isn�t too horrible. If you�re at all interested in doing it, you really should give it a try.

We�ve got a space under the basement stairs to use as a cellar (I�ve got my tiny wine rack in there, too), so the bottles aren�t underfoot as they age. If I had the money to spend, we�d be up to our ears in Zinfandel; since I don�t, and Amador County Zin is hard to find up here anyway, there�s plenty of room for our little brewery.

What else did we do this weekend, you ask? (Yes, I know you didn�t ask that; why the hell would you? Humor me here.) Well, we went over to Fremont on Saturday & poked around a few overpriced antique shops. (Is there another kind?) We stopped into Sonic Boom while we were there. (My idea, if I recall correctly.) Science Girl picked up �Pink Flag� by Wire & a couple of other things I can�t remember right now; I got �Global A-Go-Go� by Joe Strummer & The Mescaleros, and the Cato Salsa Experience. What is it with all the Svensker rock bands these days?

Sunday was laundry day. and now you're all caught up.

bmarkey 8/05/2002 09:17:00 PM

 
Well, it would appear that my archives are not working, so if you want the barbecue sauce recipe, email me.
I'm pretty busy tonight, but I hope to post a proper entry later on.
bmarkey 8/05/2002 06:57:00 PM

Friday, August 02, 2002

 

I Can See Your House From Here

One of the few advantages of being, um, over forty is that I don�t have to worry too much about being cool anymore. I can do what I want without having to establish my cred - since, by definition, I no longer have any. It�s liberating, really. Of course I could have been doing this all along, and to a certain degree I have done so. Except when it comes to music. When I was in my twenties, for example, there was music that was �correct� and music that was not. While I�m sure that this still obtains today, I no longer have to concern myself with it. I can boldly state, as I once did over at iconomy�s site, that my favorite song in the world just might be �Surrender� by Cheap Trick. If I were 24 I could get away with claiming that I was being ironic, but the fact is that I�m 41 and I truly do dig that song.

I mention this merely to strike terror in the hearts of anyone on my MeFi Swap list.

I've been thinking of the radio of my (long-lost) youth as I�ve been putting this mix together. As a kid, I grew up on the AM radio of the sixties � a mixture of rock, pop, soul, and R&B that you�d never be able to pull off in these days of fiercely targeted market demographic Clear Channel wankery. Not that it didn�t have its drawbacks: the DJs were obnoxious, and the commercials were pretty relentless. But the music � The Beatles, The Stones, Marvin Gaye, The Temptations, Dylan, Aretha, Jefferson Airplane, The Doors, The Supremes� OK, I�m starting to sound like one of those Time-Life infomercials they�re so fond of running on TV at two in the morning around here. The point I think I was trying to make is that it was a great way for a little kid such as myself to learn about music. Quick doses of a little bit of this & a little bit of that. Nothing too �far out�, as they used to say, but a good rock & soul initiation.

As I grew older, I learned that there was life beyond the Top 40. The Good News about FM radio was delivered to me in junior high one spring day, when the teacher of our Music Appreciation class asked what radio stations we all listened to. When he got to the impossibly cool & intimidatingly beautiful Julia Geremia I was all ears, in the desperate and pathetically feeble hope that A) somehow she�d see me listening, or, failing that, B) that I might bask in the glow of her reflected coolness by listening to the same radio station she did. (Yes, I was that much of a geek.)

So, when I got home from school that day, I headed for my room & tuned in KZAP, the station she�d mentioned. (98.5 FM, out of Sacramento. Apparently it no longer exists.) Geek or not, I could recognize good music when I heard it. Freeform radio was a revelation to me. Anything the DJ wanted to play, as long as it fit FCC regulations, was fair game. KZAP and KSAN (the original freeform station, in San Francisco.) were where I first heard Frank Zappa, Jeff Beck, Elvis Costello, The Ramones, Little Feat, Blue Oyster Cult, Bob Wills, Muddy Waters, The Sex Pistols�

Well, over the next five years � through to the end of high school � I think I may have exchanged four or five words with Julia, but I established an abiding love of eclectic music that continues to this very day. So thank you, Julia, wherever you may be.

And for those of you on my list � relax, my tastes didn�t fossilize or anything. There�s more new stuff on my mix than there is old. With any luck, you�ll be able to hear for yourselves some time next week. I will post the track list here.

bmarkey 8/02/2002 09:03:00 PM

 
Hi-

Still working on the other project. I should have it wrapped up this weekend, with any luck. In the meantime, can someone please explain to me why anyone would cook spinach? What did it ever do to them, that they would take a perfectly wonderful salad green and boil any shred of yummyness out of it?
bmarkey 8/02/2002 04:58:00 PM