Life

I've been thinking a lot lately about the workings of things. It's my version of religion and pondering my place in the universe. There's a shattering beauty in form, it's why stonies get all caught up in staring at their hands after one too many bong hits.
Anyway, while out on a nature walk earlier I came across a clutch of wildflowers that I couldn't immediately identify, so I picked a leaf and a flower and pressed it in my notebook to bring home and ID later (thanks Audubon Society field guides!). Sometimes I feel as if there's just too much. So much for the senses to process and appreciate and much too much for the mind to think about. It's haunting when not tormenting. So then I started thinking about what I really love, all the things that make life not just tolerable but exciting. Of course, first, is family. Where would I be without Miss Kitty and the kids and all the rest? Sure, my parents are annoying, but they never stop being annoying in new and clever ways. Spending time with them is like sniffing the pus gently drawn from a boil. You just can't stop yourself.
Second, I love gardening. Nothing is more gratifying than growing something and then incorporating it into a meal. That probably explains why I love making wine so much also. It's probably the Italian in me, but supper is absolutely not complete without a decent red wine. Miss Kitty and I finally sampled the mezza luna wine that we made. Initially I was distressed because it seemed harsh on the palate, but I allowed the bottle to breathe for twenty minutes or so, and then it was just perfect. We've got an alcohol content of 14.5%, which is a tad on the high side in my estimation, but I think it'll turn out being a fine wine. I think that we should make a barollo again next. Though that batch was good, I made a couple of mistakes and would like the chance to rectify that.
The natural world never ceases to be a source of amazement for me. Once Cree and I took a guided geological hike at McConnell's Mills and to see the effects of glaciation strewn across the steeply inclined landscape in the form of massive upended rock formations really put the forces of the Earth in perspective.
We're small, you know? We tell ourselves that god made us in his image, that god loves us, that we have a definite purpose and plan as designed by god...but what does any of that mean really? We are, we exist, but so does a tree, a rock, a cloud. And if god is indeed controlling the actions, thoughts, and hearts of billions of people, how is he any different than an elaborate puppetmaster Mary Sueing everybody endlessly?
No, we have free will, albeit freewill battling against our fears. What is god other than religion's ultimate tool of fear? God as boogeyman, and Satan as boogeyman times a thousand. Eh, I am ye of little faith.
Oh, and another thing I like: Puppies :)

Top Chef 4.12

And then there were three, I mean, four. The tiny speck of suspense this week revolved entirely around whether it would be Lisa or Spike who would get the boot. Secretly, and rather obviously, I had hoped that the judges would kick them both off. And why not? Antonia, Richard, and Stephanie are in a whole other league, and as easy as it is to simply trash Spike and Lisa, I'm going to resist that urge. Frankly, I'm excited about the final, and that excitement has trumped my desire to dance on Spike's grave or speculate how colossally Lisa will frak (yes, I watch BSG) up. If that girl has culinary game at all, this will be her last chance to show it.
Now, back to last night's episode: Spike, what were you thinking with those scallops? A frozen blob of indeterminent age, quality, or origin...yeah, that sounds like a winner to me. Everybody has some icy miasma in their freezer that should be thrown out. You don't instead try and salvage funky seafood. It spells doom, dude, which is why you had to toss your cutlery into a wooden box stenciled with 'Spike' on the side and toddle back home. I chuckled at his knife box, especially since he had his name on it. I doubt that it would get mixed up with anyone else's knife box, since no one else stores their knives thusly. It was sad, and almost made me feel empathy for him, which made me angry.
I can't wait for next week's finale. Antonia, I'm still betting on you!

Avoiding Work

Though that is not me in the photo, that is the comp workstation I am at right now. There's more clutter currently littered about than what is represented here. I attract clutter, it's my one true gift. Miss Kitty hates clutter and always eyes my stacks of books/magazines/notebooks with an impulse to straighten. I keep notebooks on everything. I have a recipe notebook, winemaking notebook, poisonous plants (with pictures) notebook, archaeology notebook(s), and then the random catch-all notebooks that I carry around with me in a messenger bag in case I think of something.
Oh! That reminds me: I had a dream the other night where Miss Kitty and I were in High School with Bobby Brady (of the Brady Bunch) and he had a poorly trained pet monkey. When the monkey wasn't engaged in self gratification he was biting people and turning them into zombies (it's a dream, what can I say?). Finally the dream culminated with a big showdown in the HS cafeteria with me and Miss Kitty taking an axe to the monkey and me yelling, "Fuck you and your goddamn monkey, Bobby Brady!" Then I woke up and had to pee. When I told Miss Kitty the dream she just shook her head and said, "That's actually pretty funny!"

Almost Finished

Some people cannot resist the urge to blink whenever you tell them to not blink. It's like ignoring gravity or something.
Here we have Riechter Von Sanchez, my mom, and the other son, Cree. Neither of my sons would have survived infancy if not for my mother. I was completely baby-ignorant back then, so she came and stayed with me for a month and taught me everything a new moron needs to know so as not to have authorities remove the child from your (my) custody.
Sometimes I wonder where all the time went, now that the kids are nearly adults. But then I remember the sleepless nights and spit-up stained clothes and raccoons tearing apart the trash to get at the poopy diapers and I smile that those days are gone forever.

Undeveloped Country

Who have we got here? That would be my sister, Riechter Von Sanchez in the background, and my sister's boyfriend. The other day I found a roll of film that hadn't been developed so I took it over to Rite-Aid so that I could see what was captured therein. I'm pretty sure that this was taken over Easter weekend. How exciting!
Obviously I'm just killing time until Top Chef airs tonight. *Yawn, stretch*

Top Chef 4.11

Everything's fair in love and war, so when Antonia won the quickfire challenge she oh so wisely picked Stephanie and Richard for her team in the restaurant wars. If you're polydactyl and counting on one hand, that leaves Lisa, Spike, and Dale on the opposing team. Hmmmm, how many seconds will it take for me to figure out who's going to lose? On the one hand with six fingers we have the best of the best, and on the same hand we have...a fucking mess.
Lisa and Dale absolutely cannot work with each other for a myriad of reasons, but primarily because they are both frownie faces, notching up the negativity factor until the hole in the ozone layer over the Antarctic expands over the Andes and blinds innocent alpacas grazing near Machu Pichu. It's insane how dysfunctional this little family is, topped off as it is with Spike, who does nothing but distance himself from his teammates throughout the challenge.
So, when the Dale-led team finally fails and gets their collective asses brought before the judges' table...I thought, and said out loud, Lisa is toast. But no! Dale was sent packing!!! Dale!!! He really was the best of these hapless three, so to see him go before Lisa or asshat Spike is HUGE! Spike is entirely useless. I wouldn't eat a can of baked beans he opened and heated. And Lisa is just a carbuncle. Dale's a carbuncle too, but I figured he'd make it until the final four. But no, no, and NO.
Stephanie won the elimination challenge and now I'm hungry for some linguini. I definitely look for Antonia, Richard, and Stephanie to be in the final. Each of them has what it takes to be TC.

Bela

For those who wish to see pictures of Bela, our beagle pup, here you go. It was a rainy day and I was outside smoking. She looks forlorn, don't she? Well, she's only got herself to blame because I've offered her cigarettes before and she's always turned up her nose at them.
Bela's doing really well. I had her at the vet yesterday and she's had her rabies shot and got a glowing, glimmering, all shiny bill of health and development. She's a glorious example of beagledom! We're training her per the monks of Skete method, which is a tad harsh, but she's responding to it, so who am I to argue with monks? German monks, at that. Miss Kitty bought a book...and the rest is history...