300 Million

Here are some interesting statistics about the growth of the US

Alone this weekend

It is always tough when I am left alone for the weekend. I always tend too much towards self reflection anyway, but when I am all alone for a weekend it gets worse. I love staying at home, but usually with my sweet ever lovin’ not all alone.

So today I cooked. We will be having a dinner party next week, and I want to cook from Julia (Mastering the Art of French Cooking Vol II), but it is a complicated recipe. (Paupiettes Gargantua). So I cooked it today.

I woke up early (as I usually do). But earlier than usual. About 4:30. So Blaze and I got up and walked that early. The city is surprisingly serene that time of day. I saw a couple of cars, and one fellow on a bike (with no shirt). It was cold – in the low 50s.

When I got back I made myself a cup of coffee and toasted some bread. (Home made bread. Simple, white bread. It is good toasted). I read the papers (three of ‘em) and had my breakfast. One of the cats stayed on my lap the whole time I was reading.

After cleaning the dishes, I made a list and decided that I should go shopping. I went to Costco. Traffic was pretty bad due to construction on I-10 (aka The Katy Freeway), but I was in a pretty easy going mood.

I got the meat and some light bulbs. I had to do to Fiesta to get the vegetables (We just don’t need 15 lbs of carrots) and headed home. Traffic was bad again. I was easy going.

I started cooking about 11:00. The recipe, as I said was complicated. It took about four hours, so I had a very late lunch. It was very tasty. I had a glass of the Rosemont Balmoral Syrah we bought a couple of weeks ago. A perfect match.

Then I took a nap.

Later today, I intend on going to a friend’s party. Though I don’t really want to leave the house. I would rather just stay home.

Just stay home.

Croûtage

SO here I am sitting at home alone as my sweet ever-lovin’ is our gallivanting with her book group. (they are reading something foolish like Tales of my Russian Winter or Tails of my Russian Weasel. I am not sure. I know that Russian is in the title, however.). (She abandons me like this occasionally. I don’t like it. I don’t like it one little bit. But what can you do? Well, I can TELL you what you can do. Nothing)

I am eating a delicious Tuna Salad Sandwich that Doreen had lovingly made for me before she left. With it I am drinking an amazingly good wine (the bottle of which I am trying not to finish so that she can get a glass sometime soon). It is a Chilean Viongier/Chardonnay blend that I bought for only $6.99 (!) at the Houston Wine Merchant (note to self: buy more). I am reading the latest copy of New York magazine, lovingly subscribed to for us by Trouta.

I start reading an article about Baguettes in New York. I guess I am only reading it because I have a cat on my lap and it is difficult to move. Well, what do I see? I see that the description of a baguette that has a “piling up of little pieces of crust” on the bottom of it is croûtage! And what do I think of from that? Why Crou-crous! So this term, which I thought was made up by my Grandmother, (in deep south Louisiana) is really a French word!

Who knew?

Bob Dylan

I just got the latest Bob Dylan disc – Modern Times. It is a wonderful set of music, if you like Bob Dylan. As my brother Mark said, “good thing he took care of his voice”. There is a certain earthy quality to his vocals.

But the songs are great.

Sometimes I wonder
Why you can’t treat me right.
You do good all day
And then you do wrong all night.

From Spirit on the Water – my favorite song so far.

I have listened to Dylan since I was a little kid. All the older siblings (four of ‘em) liked to listen to Bob. And they were my major musical influences. I would guess that I know most of his songs. I will sometimes surprise Doreen by bursting into song when I hear a Dylan verse in normal conversation.

Dylan, The Band, Warren Zevon, Tom Waits, and David Bromberg seem to be the core of my music library. I guess I need to expand my horizons.

I don’t have an i-pod. Mainly because I am not sure when I would listen to it. My commute is only about 20 minutes, and I usually listen to the radio. At work I have too much interaction with people to listen to music. At home, I have a stereo. And when Doreen is here, I would rather talk.

Blaze & Coco - my first YouTube

Military Commissions Act

I just hope that my Year of Turning 50 doesn't revolve around this rejection of our basic civil liberties.

Here is a good article discussing the risk that we are running.

Please read it.

(Thanks Matt)

The Year of Turning 20

30 years ago, in the summer of 1976 I flew down to Lima to work at Hierro Peru. An iron mine located in Marcona. That was my year of turning 20.

I showed up with nothing more than my passport (without a Yellow Fever inoculation, by the way) and one piece of luggage. The Health Inspector waived me in anyway (though I can still remember in my mind hoping that I would just be turned away and sent home. It was a daunting thought to be 19 years old and about to spend three months in Peru, never having been out of the US before) and I went to meet the folks I was staying with.

There were some interesting things that I still remember. I had to register with the PIP (the Peruvian equivalent of the FBI), where they fingerprinted me and took my mug shots. I remember a Soviet Submarine entering Bahia San Nicolás. One evening when I was playing poker with some friends, there was a knock on the door and an armed soldier asked to come in. (The people I was with did not let him in). He said he was checking for curfew violators (of which I was one).

I went to free outdoor movies – several of which were from “red” China. I saw Chinese movies with Spanish subtitles. Remember how bad the relationship between the US and China was back then? I felt subversive.

The currency exchange rate changed almost daily (not that I had much money). The drug of choice (after Beer and Pisco) was Pasta. Mixed with tobacco. Did nothing for me. I ate a lot of potatoes once the folks I was staying with left. I had almost no money. One night, a friend dragged me to several brothels. I had to money to pay there either. I went home unsullied.

When you are 19 you are fearless. I hitchhiked from Nazca to Arequipa. I jumped over the wall at Sacsayhuaman and ran away from the cops who were chasing me. What was I thinking?

At 19 I did not really notice the poverty, but I did notice (or _feel_) the repression. Maybe I just imagined it.

The Nietzsche Family Circus

The Nietzsche Family Circus

New Orleans Food

We had two great meals. One at the Bon Ton, and one at a place I have never been before - the Rio Mar.

More later.

New Orleans

I am in New Orleans for a convention.

I will see what I can see, and write something about it all