. . . . . . And Thanks For All The Fish . . . . . . . . .

Thanks Guys, for sharing the last couple of years of my life. It's time for me to move on. I'll still visit you, you'll probably see me around here and there, but Sir Robin is indeed riding away.

It's time.

Never let anyone tell you that online friends are somehow lesser friends than those in the meat world.

Happy Birthday Bob!

Bob Marley would have been 64 today. It's hard for me to believe that he was only 36 when he died. He was a true poet, in his mind and in his heart.

He left us way too soon.

Everyday at work, as I sit at my desk, I can look over my monitors and see Bob hanging on my wall. Many years ago, I purchased a charcoal drawing of him at an art show. I paid about a hundred dollars or so for it. At the time, that was a pretty large sum for me. I've never regretted the purchase. During those years, (my low to late 20's), I moved several times. Bob was always the last thing off the wall in the old place and the first thing on the wall in the new place.

When I got divorced, I brought Bob to my office. No one in my office even knows who he is. I tell them he's my grandfather. The most common response is: "Are you Indian"?

Philistines.

I love to watch him sing, he has such passion. I get the feeling he'd be just as happy singing on a street corner as he would be in a concert hall. It was about the music, not the money.

Anyway, I love Bob. I wish he were still around.

Redemption Song

Old pirates, yes, they rob I;
Sold I to the merchant ships,
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit.
But my hand was made strong
By the 'and of the Almighty.
We forward in this generation
Triumphantly.
Won't you help to sing
These songs of freedom? -
'Cause all I ever have:
Redemption songs;
Redemption songs.

Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;
None but ourselves can free our minds.
Have no fear for atomic energy,
'Cause none of them can stop the time.
How long shall they kill our prophets,
While we stand aside and look? Ooh!
Some say it's just a part of it:
We've got to fulfil de book.

Won't you help to sing
These songs of freedom? -
'Cause all I ever have:
Redemption songs;
Redemption songs;
Redemption songs.
---
Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;
None but ourselves can free our mind.
Wo! Have no fear for atomic energy,
'Cause none of them-a can-a stop-a the time.
How long shall they kill our prophets,
While we stand aside and look?
Yes, some say it's just a part of it:
We've got to fulfil de book.
Won't you help to sing
Dese songs of freedom? -
'Cause all I ever had:
Redemption songs -
All I ever had:
Redemption songs:
These songs of freedom,
Songs of freedom.

Oh Dear

I am at a loss for words.

That doesn't often happen, but there are just so many ways to approach this.

I suppose one can applaud her for the sentiment of the passage. As bible verses go, it is an agreeable one. The circumstance in which one might find themselves in a position to read it, however, might negate a bit of it's effect.

Speaking of negating . . . . just a thought . . . . . if one were to be in a position to read the words, mightn't they, (the words), oh . . . . I don't know . . . . lessen the . . . . well . . . . um . . . need to be in such a position? I mean, in times that one might find oneself in that position, might bible verses not be on one's mind?

I'm just sayin' . . . . . . .

Are you sure you want to see this?



OK. but you've been warned . . . . . .











Last chance to not look . . . . . . .

OMG OMG OMG OMG!!!!!!!

THIS!!!!!!
Makes me very happy.

I own and enjoyed this, but I am very excited about the new project.

Discuss - please. . . . . . .

I Got a Big New Love . . . . . .

I have a question for you.

When you find that you really like something that you assumed you wouldn't, does it annoy you, or delight you?

I must admit, it rather annoys me. Let me explain -

I don't watch a lot of regular TV. I simply don't have time to get involved in a series. Yes, I have a DVR, (what a wonderful invention!), and it helps, but I still rarely find the time to actually sit and watch something. Because of that, I just don't even start to watch a weekly TV series, even one I'm sure I would love, because I don't want to spend the time trying to keep up with each episode.

When I see advertisements for a new show, I tune them out just for that reason. So, when Big Love started a couple of years ago, I didn't pay a lot of attention. The premise alone was enough to turn me off of it. Let's face it; I have some very prejudicial, preconceived notions about far right Mormon pluralist, and the entire idea of multiple wives creeps me out to no end. Easy to avoid that show, right?

Well, it was.

The new season started three weeks ago, and I caught a few minutes here and there of the show. Then, I watched the entire third episode.

Damn you HBO for making such intriguing and interesting characters!!!!

I'm hooked. I've already set the DVR to record all the episodes, and this Friday is a back to back to back catch up for all of this season.

**sigh**

It is a good show. Even if I feel like I need a shower after I watch it.

Better Late Than Never?

I somehow missed Blogger Poetry Reading Day yesterday.


What do you know about Ted Hughes? I didn't know much. To me, he was always the guy who killed Sylvia Plath. Of course, that's not true, things are rarely that simple.

This year, I was gifted by a dear friend with two volumes of his poetry.

This one is from Birthday Letters. It is addressed to Sylvia, as are all but two in the collection. They are deeply personal, intimate, and occasionally disturbing. Reading some of them almost makes me feel like a voyeur, peering into the raw emotion of an intense but flawed relationship.

If you can't guess what this one says to me, you haven't been paying attention.


The Shot

Your worship needed a god.
Where it lacked one, it found one.
Ordinary jocks became gods-
Defiled by your infatuation
That seemed to have been designed at birth for a god.
It was a god-seeker. A god finder.
Your Daddy had been aiming you at god.
When his death touched the trigger.
In that flash
You saw your whole life. You ricocheted
The length of your Alpha career
With the fury
Of a high-velocity bullet
That cannot shed one foot-pound
Of kinetic energy. The elect
More or less died on impact-
They were too mortal to take it. They were mind-stuff.
Provisional, speculative, mere auras.
Sound-barrier events along your flightpath.
But inside your sob-sodden kleenex
And your Saturday night panics,
Under your hair done this way and that way,
Behind what looked like rebounds
And the cascade of cries diminuendo,
You were undeflected.
You were gold-jacketed, solid silver,
Nickel-tipped. Trajectory perfect
as through ether. Even the cheek-scar,
Where you seemed to have side-swiped concrete,
served as a rifling groove
To keep you true.
Till your real target
Hid behind me. Your Daddy,
God with the smoking gun. For a long time
Vague as mist, I did not even know
I'd been hit,
Or that you had gone clean through me-
To bury yourself at last in the heart of the god.

In my position, the right witchdoctor
Might have caught you in flight with his bare hands,
Tossed you, cooling, one hand to the other,
Godless, happy, quieted.
I managed
A wisp of your hair, your ring, your watch, your nightgown.

Can Brave Sir Robin Come Out And Play?

I've been tagged!!!!

Audrey, the lovely proprietress of Multitude has tagged me with the "4th" meme.

Here are the rules:

Got to the file that holds your pictures, go to the fourth folder and pick the fourth picture and display and write about it.

My home computer crashed last week, and I haven't received a call from the repair shop as to it's health. The photo folders on my work computer are not nearly as extensive as on my home computer, but I do have some.

Here goes:



This is a picture of the USS Constitution. It was taken in the Spring of 2000. I was still married at the time and I took my wife to Boston for the weekend to celebrate her birthday.

The story of how it came to be on my work computer is far more exciting than the picture itself.

I have been and out of my attic several times over the last few weeks, as I have been working on a bit of remodeling/redecorating at the castle. My attic is a pain to get in and out of, so I don't usually go there. While up there looking at wiring options for a light fixture, I found a box of old photos that I didn't know was up there. They included many picture of the children growing up. These are a particular treasure to me because I lost most of my photos in the divorce.

This photo was on a CD that was in the box. I was on my lunch break when I found it, so I brought it to work to see what was on it. Photos from our weekend in Boston, Spring of 2000.

As always, consider yourself tagged!

A New Feature!

I'd like to introduce a new feature here at Tales of Brave Sir Robin. I call it:

Songs I like that you've probably never heard of.

Of course, the problem with that premise will be that the more obscure the song, the more difficult it will be to find a video of it. The quality of today's video will attest to that fact. It is a live version and not nearly as haunting and poignant as the studio cut.

So, now that my intro is crudely out of the way . . . .

Songs I like that you've probably never heard of.
(Vol. 1)

Paralyzed

Artist - Sixpence none The Richer Album - Divine Discontent

Americans like distractions.

We must, because we are so easily distracted. Why do you think bad news always comes out late on a Friday afternoon? Although you'd barely know it from the (American) media, there has been a great deal of brutal carnage going on in Gaza for the last month. To be fair, there has been a lot to distract us from the rest of the world lately; the holiday season, the banking crisis, the economy, the new administration nominating cabinet officials, and of course, the inauguration.

It seems the human race just can't keep from killing and maiming one another. I challenge you to find a 5 year period in modern history without a war of some type. Hell, I haven't done the math, but I'll bet a 2 year period doesn't exist. Perhaps that's why we hardly treat it as news anymore. What is your reaction when you watch an account of a village being bombed? Do you ignore it? Are you anesthetized to it? Or do you grieve?

This song was written 10 years ago, but it will sadly remain topical for as long as human nature remains as it is. It is also an appropriate response to violence.

Again, seek out the studio cut, it's so much better.

Paralyzed
(Matt Slocum)

I look out to the fields
Where blood is shed upon the ground
I breathe in, breathe out
Change the channel, mute the sound
I take a match, a cigarette, and a walk to clear my head
Stomach's reeling at the thought of all those (human beings dead)

I breathe in, breathe out
I'm going to an interview
About a song, three minutes long
I just need something to do
Especially when my dearest friend
Was sent to cover Kosovo
His last assignment brought a bullet
And now he's gone, he's gone

Feels like I'm fiddling while Rome is burning down
Should I lay my fiddle down, take a rifle from the ground
I need the Ghost to breathe a Northern Gale tonight*
'cause I'm paralyzed, I'm paralyzed

I packed his books up, left the office*
Went to tell the wife the news
She fell in shock, the baby kicked,
And shed a tear inside the womb
I breathed in, I breathed out,
Soaked the ground up with my eyes
It's hard to say a healing word
When your tongue is paralyzed

Feels like I'm fiddling while Rome is burning down
Should I put my fiddle down, take a rifle from the ground
God give me strength to pray that You will set things right
'cause I'm paralyzed, I'm paralyzed

*Yes - some of these lyrics don't quite match the live version. This band was originally signed to a Christian label, and was still representing this label in 1999 when this performance was recorded. The song wasn't actually released until 2002 on a secular label. I am supposing that is the difference. These lyrics match the studio version.

It's Almost Over

Our long National nightmare is about to come to an end.

It's yet to be seen if the Republic will survive the devastation of the Bush years, but millions of Americans and millions more worldwide are hopeful.

That hope is personified in one man.

Thank you Mr. Obama, for accepting this burden.

While You're Waiting . . .

Sorry guys, I've been very busy for a few days. I'll have updates and details soon.

Meanwhile, Fred took this video of Zoe Christmas night, and it was too cute not to share.

(The laugh track you hear in the background was the boys watching TV - it sounds coordinated with Zoe, but that was just happy coincidence.

Oh, Sorry, Is It 2009?

Brave Sir Robin has been remiss during the Holidays. I have neglected all of you shamelessly. What with fabulous Holiday parties to attend, a gorgeous new girlfriend to keep me occupied, and jet setting away to a sunny locale I just haven't had time.

Oh, what's that? None of that happened to me? That was all other bloggers?

Well, then I guess I was just lazy.

Or busy.

Or a combination of both.

So, what has happened in the past few days?

Brave Sir Robin rested.

A lot.

This was my year to have the kids for Christmas, so I took the last two weeks of the year off. 17 days in a row without going to work.

A guy could get used to this I tell you.

Alas, it ends tomorrow, back to the routine I'm afraid. Luckily, I have had the chance to ease into it. Clinton had a basketball game Friday the 2nd, so school has intruded into our lazy time a bit before work will.

I spent a lot of time in the car, traveling back and forth to Houston, but I don't usually mind the drive. We visited Scottie quite a few times, including yesterday. I'm elated to report that his is progressing. His progress tends to go in spurts. He will make several advances in a short time, then plateau for a week or two, but his overall progress is readily apparent. He is feeding himself now, and can dial a telephone. His speech is getting better, but it is still far from good. His therapy at his current facility is primarily focusing on getting his left arm and leg fully mobile. His leg is showing progress. He isn't walking yet, but I feel certain he will in the next few weeks. His left arm isn't showing nearly so much cooperation I 'm afraid. He still has pretty much no mobility at all in that arm. His spirits, however, were very good throughout the holidays.

Did I mention I rested?

The photo detectives among you may have noticed a pattern in the pics I posted the day after Christmas. Yes, everyone is wearing pajamas. Bee lamented that she didn't spend a couple of days in pajamas watching movies. Rest assured dear friend, Brave Sir Robin's clan more than made up for your lack of sloth, with our excess of same. I let the family open one present a couple of days early so it could be enjoyed all week. Enjoy we did.

Christmas Eve, we awoke early and went to Houston. We visited Scottie, and brought him an order of enchiladas, rice and beans. We then went shopping for Christmas Dinner at the newly opened Wholefoods right across the street from my children's absolute favorite restaurant, (no - not McDonald's) - P.F. Chang's. After stowing away our Wholefoods booty in the ice-chest, we went and feasted across the street. That's about all we did in Houston that day, we drove home and while I prepared Christmas Eve dinner - Tamales, rice, beans, assorted cheese, crackers and finger foods, the kids immediately got back into PJ mode. The entire family remained in PJ mode until Saturday when I had to take them all to their Mother's. I prepared Christmas Dinner in my Pajamas, and it was consumed by all in the same manner. The day after Christmas I watched about 10 hours of TV straight through. All told, while all four kids were here, I watched about 5 movies, 4 seasons of That 70's Show, and as much football as possible.

The Saturday after Christmas, I loaded up the kids and took them to their Mom for her half of the Holiday. I was prepared to stay in Houston for several days and do New Year's Eve out on the town with friends.

Didn't happen.

For some reason, she wanted me to pick them up New Year's Eve morning, so I did. Clinton used the opportunity to attend a party at the home of a young lady he is fond of. Unfortunately for Dad, said young lady lives almost 25 minutes away. There is no way, no how I was going to be on the road after midnight with even a drop of alcohol in my system, so I spent a sober night at home, alone, watching football.

I spent the rest of the week either driving to Houston or working on my redecorating project, which - btw - is coming along nicely.

Yes, I did spend more than a few moments this weekend thinking about She Who Must Not Be Named, but it was more bittersweet than raw and painful.

That, dear friends, is the kind of progress that makes me hopeful for 2009.

Christmas At The Castle

A few random images of our Christmas together.

On Christmas Eve, we drove to Houston to visit my brother, on the way back, we spotted this pink limo. Zoe knows what she wants for Christmas.

But she was thrilled with the new dress.

We had Roast Beast.

And had pear and apple pie.

Merry Christmas!

It Could Always Be Worse

If you tend to get the Holiday Blues, remember, it could always be worse.



Classic scene. I wish I could find a better copy.

I know this is a cheesy movie, but I always watch it when it comes on. Consider it a guilty pleasure. Besides, was there anyone more lovely than the young Phoebe Cates?

Merry Freakin' Christmas

Ok, I know I posted this last year, but for those of you who missed it . . . .

If Martin Scorsese directed animated Christmas specials . . . . .

Raging Rudolph

Remembrance Of Cookies Past

Do you have a favorite holiday memory? Or, even a memory, favorite or not, that just means the Holidays to you? I was forced to think about that last year. It was just over a month past the end of my ill-fated love affair, and I was facing Christmas without the kids. I needed a shot of holiday cheer, and I needed it fast. What to do?

I remembered a cookie my Mom used to make, back when I was a kid.

A bit about my Mom, Christmas at our home, and these cookies.

As I've told you before, my Mom wasn't really a great cook. She wasn't horrible, but she wasn't especially adventurous. Pretty much everything was fried, at least until my Dad's heart attack. After that, everything was shoved under the broiler.

She was, however, a proficient baker. She made great pastry, and I still can't match her biscuits. Every Holiday, be it Christmas, Easter, or Thanksgiving, she would bake, and bake, and bake. I can't say whether or not she enjoyed it, but she did have a sweet tooth, and spared no effort to fill the dessert table at each opportunity.

Christmas baking meant pies, of course; pumpkin, mince, and chocolate for sure, sometimes apple, and usually a sweet potato in later years. Every year she made fudge, pralines, divinity, a non bake fruitcake abomination that consisted of crushed vanilla wafers and, something else, I'm not quite sure what, and lots and lots of cookies.

The usual cut-out cookies were there, iced with powdered sugar icing tinted a garish red and green, some kind of spiced date bar that I wish I had the recipe for, spritz cookies in the same shade as the icing, and fruit cake cookies.

The fruitcake cookies were ubiquitous to my childhood Christmases. We had them at home, if I went to a friend's house, they were pretty much guaranteed to be sitting on the counter there as well. My grandmother always had them, and I can remember eating them at church get-togethers.

The funny thing is, I didn't really like those cookies. They were white and bland, and filled with artificial, chemical tasting candied fruit. That was it. The cookie was just an innocuous vehicle for candied fruit and citron, along with a small amount of nuts. I didn't like fruitcake, well, not the one's I'd been exposed to at this point in my life, and I didn't like the overly sweet, artificial taste of candied fruit. Yet, every year, I looked forward to those cookies, and I anticipated their appearance on the kitchen counter.

The only time I ever saw those cookies was at Christmas time. One taste of that chemical, bitter citron and I knew that Christmas was really almost here. When you're 10 years old, that's a pretty big deal.

I thought about those cookies as I tried to jump start my holiday spirit, so I set out to make them. There was a problem; nobody but me remembered them. I guess they must have been some 70's fad from a women's magazine or something, because I couldn't remember the last time I had them, and I couldn't find anyone who even knew what I was talking about.

I started pouring through my collection of Holiday cooking magazines. I finally found a recipe that I thought might be close, so I made them, along with toffee and pecan tassies and far, far more sweets that we could ever hope to eat in three Christmases. I played Christmas music the whole time I baked, and by the time I had the counter filled with goodies, I had made it through the whole day without thinking of you know who.

Satisfied with my day's work, I made a pot of coffee and sat down with one of my cookies. It was a pale, golden white and had a very faint vanilla smell. I bit in. The moment that tang of candied citron hit my tongue, I could see my Mom's old kitchen. I could imagine the little Santa shaped cocoa mugs that lined the bar, and I could smell the Christmas tree. (Flocked, with a color wheel on it) It worked. Make no mistake, this cookie is a far cry from Proust's madeleine, but it accomplished it's goal.

Later, when the kids came home, they surprised me by liking those cookies. I made several more batches, and experimented a bit. I tried substituting first some, and then all of the candied fruit for dried. I used apricots and dried cranberries, even dried cherries. While the dried fruit may have made a better cookie, it was not the Christmas cookie of my memory, for that, it needs the candied citron.

This year, I needed the same boost, so last Friday, I put on the Christmas CD's, I made a pot of Earl Grey, and I baked these cookies. Maybe someday my kids will fondly remember me in the kitchen baking these, and always associate that memory with Christmas.

I hope so.

Fruitcake Cookies

1/2 cup butter
1 1/2 cups AP flour
2/3 cup sugar
1/2 cup cottage cheese (small curd, creamy - don't use low fat)
1 egg
2 Tab milk
1/2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp. vanilla
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1 cup mixed candied fruit with citron * see note below
1/2 cup chopped pecans

Beat the butter in a large bowl until soft. Lightly mix in half of the flour. Add the next 7 ingredients, mix until well combined, stopping to scrape the sides occasionally. Stir in the remainder of the flour, and the fruit and nuts.

Bake at 375 F for 10-12 minutes on parchment paper. Cool on a rack. This recipe makes about 30 cookies for me.

* The fruit should be chopped much finer than it comes out of the container. To accomplish this, I lightly oil my knife with vegetable oil. It makes the job much, much easier.

Scooped out and ready to bake.

Out of the oven - They don't get very brown or crisp, you want them soft.

Cooling on the rack.

A final note -

The title of this post is an obvious reference to Proust's great work. In recent years, it has become de rigueur to refer to this work as In Search Of Lost Time. I thought the earlier title better served my purpose, but after re-reading this post, I'm not so sure. Searching for lost time is a fair description of my blog, n'est-ce pas?

The One Where I Need To Relax

Brave Sir Robin is a little tense.

Just a tad.

My life has been a dime store novel (though, not a particularly compelling one) for pretty much forever it seems.

That, it appears, is changing!

The events of the past few days have made it clear that my life is indeed now a Christmas movie. Not a beloved one, that you can't wait to see every year because it doesn't feel like Christmas without it. Not one that TBS will run marathons of, and families will gather around the TV in Christmas Eve pajamas to watch, holiday libations in hand.

No, Brave Sir Robin is living one of those Christmas movies that plays on the other channels. The ones with "C" list stars from the 80's. The ones that play on channels opposite football games.

you know the plot -

Stressed out, type "A" person plans the perfect Christmas, works like the devil to make everyone's Christmas wish come true, only to see it turn into disaster after disaster through no fault of their own, and then wrap up neatly with a "that's what Christmas is really about" ending?

I hate those movies.

I will, however take the cheesy happy ending if I can get it.

I'm trying to schedule a carpenter, (no, not that one), an electrician, furniture delivery, and the cable (satellite) guys.

Everything depends on the cable guys.

Guess who didn't show up as scheduled yesterday?

Still, as problems go it's a better one to have than what most of the last year delivered.

I just need to relax.

I think Cappuccino has the answer. Doesn't he look sweet? Don't be fooled. He's playing nice the last two weeks before Christmas. He's hoping for some catnip in his stocking. Or a small child, I'm not sure which.

Oh - I did manage to make cookies Friday.


Recipe to follow.

Happy Holidays from my castle to yours.

This Is A Bailout I Can Get Behind!

It seems the family farms that produce the most heavenly, delectable, irreplaceable item on this earth are in financial trouble.

Of course, I'm talking about Parmigiano , of course, what did you think I was talking about?

Who knew?

The Italian Government has purchased 100,000 wheels of cheese in an effort to prop up the failing industry.

Damn. They could send me a wheel.

Have you priced the real stuff lately?

I can no longer buy it here locally, but I bought some in Houston Saturday.

Ouch.

But, the trip wasn't a total loss. I went to the downtown Spec's. (My annual Christmas pilgrimage), and look what I found!


Yes, Moxie!

The nectar of the Gods. They only had two left. I bought them both. I drank one that night, and I'm saving the last one for . . . . I don't know. A day I really need it.

Laugh, Think, Cry

I noticed this morning that by 2010, cancer will replace heart disease as the world's number one killer. I was a little surprised that it wasn't already. It's hard to imagine that there isn't a person or family that you know that hasn't been affected by this disease.

It was a nice little bit of synchronicity that I saw that article this morning. I was mulling this post over in my head all night. I don't often go overly sentimental in this space, but today I want to make an exception.

We watch a lot of sports in our household. With two teenage boys and myself, if the TV is on in the evening, it is usually sports. Last night was no exception. The Longhorns were scheduled to play Villanova in the Jimmy V Classic last night in Madison Square Garden. Of course, we tuned in.

Do you know the story of Jim Valvono? Jim Valvano (Jimmy V), was a college basketball coach. He is best known as the coach of the North Carolina State team that defeated the heavily favored, high flying, Phi Slamma Jamma team of the University of Houston in 1983. That was the Houston team with future NBA hall of famers Hakeen Olajuwon and Clyde Drexler. I never forgave him for that, but I digress.

Jimmy left coaching in the early 90's and turned to broadcasting. It was then that he began to earn my respect. He was an excellent basketball analyst. He knew the game, he was bright and engaging, but mostly, he just inspired me. He was always positive and upbeat, he could always find something good to say about the players or their coach. It is no surprise that he became a highly sought after motivational speaker. His motto, which is now the motto of the foundation that bears his name is Don't give up, don't ever give up.

In 1993 Jimmy was awarded the first ever Authur Ashe Courage award. His acceptance speech that night was one of the truly most inspiring moments I've ever witnessed. In his speech, he gives the audience a recipe for fulfilment:

To me, there are three things we all should do every day. We should do this every day of our lives. Number one is laugh. You should laugh every day. Number two is think. You should spend some time in thought. And Number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy. But think about it. If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that's a full day. That's a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week, you're going to have something special.

Not bad advice, is it?

So think about that today, would you? Life is so short, why not squeeze every little bit out of it? Times can be hard sometimes, but face them with enthusiasm. Life is precious, make the most of it.

In case you haven't figured it out, yes, Jimmy V died of cancer. Less than two months after his speech, he was gone. He may be gone, but his fight lives on in his foundation. To date the Jimmy V foundation has raised over $80,000,000 to fund cancer research.

This year, if there is a person on your Christmas list who has everything, a person you never know what to get, why not make a donation in their name to the Jimmy V foundation? As Jimmy said,

We need money for research. It may not save my life. It may save my children's lives. It may save someone you love.

The speech is 11:15 long. I know you're busy, but it just may be the best 11 minutes you spend today. My favorite part may be around the 7:10 mark, but please, for me, watch it all.




This speech was given on March 4, 1993. Jimmy died on April 28, the same year.

About Last Night . . .

Last Night, I went to a tree lighting event, and Winter Fair. It was nice, because it was one of those rare alignments of event and weather that don't often happen here. We had one of our coldest nights of the year, and it made the atmosphere perfect for a Christmas festival.


I'm afraid the pictures are in need of a lot of work before they are presentable, but I'll share a few.

Smaller packaging Sucks . . .

I think by now most of have noticed the grocery store shrink ray.

You know how it works, the price stays the same, but the product size gets smaller.

Yes, it's frustrating, but. . .

Oh Dear.

Just don't leave a message like this one . . .

A Quick Update

Was your Thanksgiving great?

I spent the day with Scottie, and it was quite nice. His conversational skills are greatly improving. The big news however, is he has been moved from the hospital to a rehab facility. There have been several complications regarding his move over the last few weeks.

About a month ago, we thought we had him placed in a perfect facility, but several things happened to make the move not go through at the time. As it turns out, it may have been for the best. He is much more receptive to therapy at this point, and the place he is now in is only a few blocks from his old apartment. We moved him Friday. There was a mix up with the hospital and they were going to move him alone earlier in the week. We were able to push it back to Friday, so he would have family there during the move. He seems very, very happy to be in this new place, and it will be much easier for his kids to come and see him now.

I'm getting ready to drive back up there in a few minutes, but I thought I'd let you know.

So yeah, I have things to be thankful for this Thanksgiving.

Yes, I am thankful for all of you as well.

Still Busy . . . .

Is the mad rush to the Holidays getting you down? Keeping you busy?

Clinton had his first basketball game last night, and tonight, the boys go to their Mother's for Thanksgiving.

I will work Wednesday, and then?

I plan to get up early Thursday morning and spend the day with Scottie, then drive back and spend the evening at the Bayhouse. We'll see. I may even drive up there Wednesday night.

Meantime, here's something to enjoy.

As God as my witness . . .

No Doubt About It, This Is Good News

I'm loving this!

I'm Too Tired To Write, So I'll Post Pictures Edition . . . .

It's true, I am tired.

Tonight is #2 son, Dylan's 16th birthday party. It is somewhat calmer than his younger brother's 14th was.

No less work for the grocer and chef, I'm afraid, but its a calmer crowd.

I'm glad for that. I've been up since about 12:45 AM, and I'm afraid to sit for too long, because I'll probably fall asleep.

Anyway, here are a few random photos which have been sitting in my camera, some from tonight, some from a month or two ago, and some in between. These are unedited, so be kind. As always, they have clickable goodness.

Clinton and friends tonight, going to yet another Quincineria

Speaking of Clinton, this was so not his costume, really.
(What do you think? He could go as Tavi)

Pork with Green Chili and Potatoes, in the pan
(make sure and click this one)

And ready to eat

Tailgating at last year's Texas Bowl. Sorry Pido, we all wore Cougar Red.
(But we sat on the TCU side)

Not A Rookie, But Way Cool . . . .

Are you familiar with the blog Style Rookie?

It is allegedly written by a 12 year old named Tavi.

She is tragically hip, precociously clever, and pretty damn funny actually.

My guess is, she is not 12 and the site is someone's creative outlet.

I hope she is a 12 year old writing a blog like that. If so, she'll probably grow up to be as good as Bee.

You should go and check it out.

It's OK, I'll wait, tell me what you think.

Merry Christmas To Me? . . . .UPDATE!!

UPDATE!!

AWKKK!!!

It's not on sale this morning!!

It was $69.99 yesterday, and now it's $186.99

OK, I haven't done it, but I probably will.

In this morning's Petulant Rumblings, I saw this nugget.

Do you have any idea how long I have wanted this? And for only $69.99?

Yes, I already have every individual season in the original DVD releases. Yes, this version has one disk of extras, that has some interviews and such, but really, do I need them all in a single package? (40 disks!)

This Amazon.com reviewer, who has a daughter in college thinks so. His reason?

I Quote:

You buy "The Chosen Collection" so your kids will leave your "BtVS" DVDs alone

I mean, that's sensible, right? The kids will be going off to college before you know it, and technically, some of those seasons are theirs, birthday gifts and the like. So what's a Dad to do when the offspring run off with his Buffy DVDs?

I know some of you still haven't jumped on the Buffy Bandwagon.

Do you trust Brave Sir Robin's judgment?

OK - other than in Women.

Would I steer you wrong? This is the perfect opportunity for those of you who have to this point been reluctant to enter the Buffyverse. It's 65% off!!

Still not convinced? (Yes, I know which ones of you aren't), here is the Amazon editorial review:

From its charming and angst-ridden first season to the darker, apocalyptic final one, Buffy the Vampire Slayer succeeds on many levels, and in a fresher and more authentic way than the shows that came before or after it. How lucky, then, that with the release of its boxed set of seasons 1-7, you can have the estimable pleasure of watching a near-decade of Buffy in any order you choose. (And we have some ideas about how that should be done.)

First: rest assured that there's no shame in coming to Buffy late, even if you initially turned your nose up at the winsome Sarah Michelle Gellar kicking the hell out of vampires (in Buffy-lingo, vamps), demons, and other evil-doers. Perhaps you did so because, well, it looked sort of science-fiction-like with all that monster latex. Start with season 3 and see that Buffy offers something for everyone, and the sooner you succumb to it, the quicker you'll appreciate how textured and riveting a drama it is.

Why season 3? Because it offers you a winning cast of characters who have fallen from innocence: their hearts have been broken, their egos trampled in typically vicious high-school style, and as a result, they've begun to realize how fallible they are. As much as they try, there are always more monsters, or a bigger evil. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, the core crew remains something of a unit--there's the smart girl, Willow (Alyson Hannigan) who dreams of saving the day by downloading the plans to City Hall's sewer tunnels and mapping a route to safety. There are the ne'r do wells--the vampire Spike (James Marsters), who both clashes with and aspires to love Buffy; the tortured and torturing Angel (David Boreanz); the pretty, popular girl with an empty heart (Charisma Carpenter); and the teenage everyman, Xander (Nicholas Brendon).

Then there's Buffy herself, who in the course of seven seasons morphs from a sarcastic teenager in a minidress to a heroine whose tragic flaw is an abiding desire to be a "normal" girl. On a lesser note, with the boxed set you can watch the fashion transformation of Buffy from mall rat to Prada-wearing, kickboxing diva with enviable highlights. (There was the unfortunate bob of season 2, but it's a forgivable lapse.) At least the storyline merits the transformations: every time Buffy has to end a relationship she cuts her hair, shedding both the pain and her vulnerability.

In addition to the well-wrought teenage emotional landscape, Buffy deftly takes on more universal themes--power, politics, death, morality--as the series matures in seasons 4-6. And apart from a few missteps that haven't aged particularly well ("I Robot" in season 1 comes to mind), most episodes feel as harrowing and as richly drawn as they did at first viewing. That's about as much as you can ask for any form of entertainment: that it offer an escape from the viewer's workaday world and entry into one in which the heroine (ideally one with leather pants) overcomes demons far more troubling than one's own. --Megan Halverson

Ok - I wouldn't advise you to start with season three, because one of the things Joss does so well, is allow the characters to grow, to mature and to act age appropriately. It's damn fun to watch. Also, the amazing way he presents story arcs over multiple seasons. If you watch closely, he'll drop story hints a full two season ahead of when they actually happen.

This series should be required watching for every television executive, producer or writer, before they're allowed to work in the business. This is how you do it people.

It's not about the monsters, it's not about the special effects, it's not even about a hot chick in a miniskirt. It's about relationships, it's about characters who are real to us, no matter how fantastic their circumstances may be. It's about growing, and learning, and love, and yes, loss.

Sigh.

OK. I was gonna buy myself the new Blackberry . . . . . .

Scottie Update

Guess what Brave Sir Robin did today?

I had a phone conversation with my brother!!

It was slow and halting, and difficult to understand at times, but it was real, and I could tell it was him.

To be honest, there were many days that I thought he was gone. I had said my goodbyes, and I actually went shopping for a new suit for the funeral.

Then, after the hurricane, we had a glimmer of hope, only to be frustrated with the turtle's pace of his progress.

I doubted this day would ever come, but it did.

Welcome back Bro. I love you.

Blogroll Call Out!!

Hey guys,

The new site will roll out in a day or two - you should have noticed a few tweaks here and there. There will be more of the older posts back up as well.

When I started taking the site down the other day, I lost a few people off my blog roll. If you can see who's missing, let me know.

OR . . . .

If think you should be on it, and you aren't, let me know, please!

I realize Homesick Texan and Steamy Kitchen are missing, I'm working on a separate food link gadget, so they will be covered.

My Plea . . .

I'm listening to this sound track on the headphones today while I'm working, and this song came on. It struck me as extremely appropriate, considering the events of this weekend. Listen to the lyrics, it's very dammed appropriate.

And yes, I knew him before he was famous.

I'm good today.

Tuesday was Dylan's birthday, and we went to Victoria to eat and do a little shopping.

Last night, I had planned to make pork and green chili tacos, but my green chili seems to have disappeared. I made something else, which took longer, so I basically spent all night in the kitchen or on the phone.

Why on the phone? My sister called with news about Scottie. Good news. . . . stay tuned!

About That Purge . . .

Brave Sir Robin had a bad weekend.

I can't really share much of it with you, I may at a later date, but possibly not.

Those of you who have been following this site for a while now can guess it's nature.

It is time to move on.

This blog started at a time in my life that is the opening parentheses of a series of events that this current situation may well close.

Most of my older post will come back online over the next few days. Some may be edited, some may never come back.

I will be changing the look and feel of this site as well. It won't be a drastic change, but I need to move on.

I can tell you this, I have more friends than I ever imagined.

I'm OK . . . (physically)

Guys, I'm sorry if I alarmed you.

I was in a pretty emotional state when I took the site down last night.

I didn't feel safe, and I wasn't thinking clearly.

I have been overwhelmed by the concern and love I have been shown today.

Each and every one of you has blessed me.

I'm going to figure this out, and I will keep you posted.

Any Good Thoughts Out There?

I don't believe in prayer, but I could sure use any good thoughts, or Karma, or candles, or Whatever it is you believe in.

I'm kind of a mess at the moment.

Yeah, that again.

Danger!!!

If you watch this video, you may die of cuteness overload.

You have been warned.


Once upon a time... from Capucha on Vimeo.

Confessions of an 8 Year old Liberal.

From the mouths of babes . . . .

My niece, (8 years old) wrote the following paper for school. She is obviously being raised right.

(with clickable goodness)

The text, slightly edited for spelling clarity:

If I Were President

If I were President, I would make it free to go to the hospital and I would stop people from polluting and I would help the poor. I would also help the people that don’t have any clothes or food or toys, and if children don’t have enough money to go to school I’d let them go for free. I would make it where people that rode motorcycles would have to wear their helmets. I would make it were they can’t cut down rainforest. I would make it were people couldn’t smoke. I would lower gas prices and tell people to recycle. I would help the animals that need help and that’s what I would do if I were President.

What do you think folks?
She has my vote.

Let The Carnage Continue

The Freepers want to boycott Fox.

Bwahahahahahahaha

They Eat Their Own, Don'cha Know . . .

Priceless . . . The McCain camp is already throwing Palin to the sharks.

Stay tuned guys, I have a feeling the feeding frenzy has hardly begun.

NEWSWEEK has also learned that Palin's shopping spree at high-end department stores was more extensive than previously reported. While publicly supporting Palin, McCain's top advisers privately fumed at what they regarded as her outrageous profligacy. One senior aide said that Nicolle Wallace had told Palin to buy three suits for the convention and hire a stylist. But instead, the vice presidential nominee began buying for herself and her family—clothes and accessories from top stores such as Saks Fifth Avenue and Neiman Marcus. According to two knowledgeable sources, a vast majority of the clothes were bought by a wealthy donor, who was shocked when he got the bill. Palin also used low-level staffers to buy some of the clothes on their credit cards. The McCain campaign found out last week when the aides sought reimbursement. One aide estimated that she spent "tens of thousands" more than the reported $150,000, and that $20,000 to $40,000 went to buy clothes for her husband. Some articles of clothing have apparently been lost. An angry aide characterized the shopping spree as "Wasilla hillbillies looting Neiman Marcus from coast to coast," and said the truth will eventually come out when the Republican Party audits its books.

Ahhh, Schadenfreude.

Well Done America, Well Done

I'm still too numb to think clearly, (and exhausted, I was up very, very late) so here are a few images and random thoughts.



The diversity in the crowd in Chicago was a beautiful thing to see. The look of joy and hope on those faces of so many colors and, even more importantly, so many backgrounds, gives me hope. Hope for an America that values every citizen.




When I saw this on my TV screen, this is when my own tears started. This is the second time this man has brought tears to my eyes. His Democratic Convention address in 1988 did it, and then when I saw those tears streaming down his face last night, my own started. I don't always agree with him, and he has some problems, but he has been fighting not for this night, but for the opportunity this night represents, for most of his life. Thank you, Mr. Jackson, you deserve those tears. Hope is alive.

What a beautiful first family. I'm so proud for the world to see America tonight.

Hope is a beautiful thing.