November 2003 Archives

I believe a passing mention was made in Plugs and Dottles about the Big 10 championship performance of the University of Michigan football team? I would be remiss if I did not recognize the other Michigan Big 10 champion team this fall: the women's cross country team who repeat as champs. They finished 4th at the NCAAs. In my dreams, I glide effortlessly along with them during our training runs together. In reality, they're all more than twice as fast as me and they all keep asking "Ewww, who's that old guy?"
K-

1. I celebrated Thanksgiving by running 7 miles and eating with a lot of old people. (Note the total and utter irony in the latter part of this statement as most people now consider me old.) I prepared the turkey, sauerkraut, and gravy. My favorite dish of our meal - simply because of its name - was the token green dish prepared by my mother's friend Gwen. She calls it "broccoli-woccoli".

2. My brother overslept Thanksgiving morning missing both his flight to Detroit and Thanksgiving dinner. Lameness squared. Such a mistake is beyond my ken.

3. It took me barely eight hours to drive the 500 miles to Michigan but more than nine hours to drive home. Traffic and snow - both heavy - prevented a more timely return. Only guys truly appreciate drive time information such as this.

4. All else was dull. I hope yours was much more interesting.
K-

Thanksgiving is nearly upon us. I'm Michigan bound to spend the holiday cooking for my mother, doing my traditional Turkey Trot prediction run, drinking beer, and generally loafing. Plugs and Dottles returns in December.

So TW, Marie, Buzz, Alexia, Heather, -d, Joe, Alexandra, and everybody else who stops by my humble blogosphere retreat, I hope you all have an enjoyable and restful Thanksgiving.
K-

"A-" tells me he made the cast of his school play, The Will Rogers Follies. He's in the ensemble and gets to sing. Who'd have thought?
K-

Both Heather and TW commented on Maryland's tradition of serving sauerkraut for Thanksgiving dinner. I honestly don't know the origins of this tradition but it's one I carry on because it's the one time during the year I have an excuse to cook it since no one else in my house likes it. I find the tartness of the kraut nicely complements the - let's face it - otherwise rather bland tastes of the food you're likely to encounter on your holiday dinner plate. So for those daring Thanksgiving diners, I present my recipe for:

Kem's Maryland Sauerkraut
1 pound bag of sauerkraut (Do not use the canned variety!)
1 Granny Smith apple peeled, cored, and diced
1 teaspoon caraway seeds
1 cup beef bouillon
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
Salt

Wash the sauerkraut in cold water. Drain thoroughly. Combine the sauerkraut, apple, bouillon, caraway seeds, and pepper. Cook over low heat stirring occasionally, for about 30 to 35 minutes. Add salt to taste.

Use leftovers for Reuben sandwiches and sauerkraut dogs during the holiday weekend.
K-

In the past two days I've been in Borders, Staples, and the supermarket, with Christmas music blaring away in each. Can't someone please stop the insanity!

Amazon.com is looking better and better for all my Christmas shopping needs.
K-

Last night we participated in the Dazzle Dash, a 5K run benefiting the Howard Hospital Foundation. The run kicks-off the Symphony of Lights, a 2-mile drive through the woods with all sorts of brightly-lit Christmas displays. The Dazzle Dash is held at night so that runners and walkers can see all the colorful Christmas decorations.

On the way home, a herd of deer chanced to cross our car's path as we traveled down a dark, winding 2-lane country road. We had no problem avoiding the deer but it did get us talking about our near misses with nighttime animal jaywalking.

A- reported that he was recently riding with his mother when a bunny had the mischance to cross in front of my wife's car. (During the retelling of the story, A- insisted on calling it a bunny instead of a rabbit, I guess, to heighten the drama and pathos of the event.) As might be imagined, said bunny met its demise with quite a memorable albeit sickening thud.

Just as we all finished reliving this tragic loss of leperine life, we rounded a curve and there, smack-dab in the middle of the road, was a bunny. It sat motionless in front of us, bolt upright, eyes wide open and glowing in the headlights. Just as the Camry passed over, I swear I saw flames shoot from its mouth as its head did a complete 360.

Our screams could be heard for miles.
K-

1. The holidays approach. Blogging will be scant this next week. I'm on travel tomorrow and we leave for Michigan to visit my mother later this week. Back next weekend.

2. Thanksgiving marks the 1-year anniversary of my father's funeral. We're cooking dinner for my mother and a large group of her friends. Almost everyone that needs to be there will be there.

3. It's a Maryland tradition to have sauerkraut with your Thanksgiving turkey. I love sauerkraut but everyone else hates it. Thanksgiving is the one time during the year I make it.

4. The labor for A-'s Eagle Scout Service Project is done. Tomorrow he gets his work inspected by the man coordinating the project. The he writes the report.

5. Conversation with my younger son this morning while we were getting ready for church. D- was sitting in his bedroom playing video games.

"D-, get that wet towel off the floor, pick up those dirty clothes, and make your bed."
"OK"
Less than one minute later I come back to find the bed "made" and everything off the floor.
"Where did you put that wet towel?"
A pause during which time you could literally see the plausible explanation machinery of his brain explode into smithereens. "Well, it's in my closet."

6. Please take some time to watch my favorite Thanksgiving movie Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. It's a buddy movie staring Steve Martin and John Candy and it's hilarious. ("Those aren't pillows!") Both actors are at the top of their game. If you're a John Candy fan like me, Del Griffith is his best role. The poignancy of Del's loneliness together with his sincere generosity of spirit provides a marvelous counterpoint to Thanksgiving with family and friends.
K-

Wherever he is, Bob Ufer must be pleased.

If you're a fan, you know what I'm talking about.
If you're not, well, there is no explaining Bob Ufer.
K-

Start spreading the news
I'm leaving today
I want to be a part of it, New York, New York

The person masquerading as my son remains. My existence in some bizarre parallel universe continues.

These vagabond shoes
Are longing to stray
And make a brand new start of it
New York, New York

Last night "A-" told me he postponed his audition for his high school production of The Will Rogers Follies till today. Evidently, his audition music, which came from O Brother, Where Art Thou?, contained vocals. According to the rules, only instrumental music may be used for singing auditions.

I want to wake up in the city that never sleeps
To find I'm king of the hill, top of the heap
These little town blues
Are melting away
I'll make a brand new start of it
In old New York

"A-"'s original choice for music was I Am A Man Of Constant Sorrow, an old-timey bluegrass song about grief, trouble, pain, loneliness, and death. Not the song I would have chosen unless I happened to be trying out for Hamlet: The Musical.

If I can make it there
I'll make it anywhere
It's up to you, New York, New York.

Not that he's ever been there, but in its stead he's chosen New York, New York. Time will tell whether this is an auspicious song selection.

I want to wake up in the city that never sleeps
To find I'm king of the hill, top of the heap
These little town blues
Are melting away
I'll make a brand new start of it
In old New York

"A-" tells me that guys are almost guaranteed a spot in the production if they can just sing loud; pipes like Sinatra's aren't required. If only I could be a fly on the wall in that auditorium today. I wish him all good luck in his attempt at fame. But as Will Rogers himself once quipped "There are three kinds of men: The ones that learn by reading, the few who learn by observation, and the rest of them who have to pee on the electric fence and find out for themselves."

If I can make it there
I'll make it anywhere
It's up to you, New York, New York.

K-

Conversation this morning with my 17 year-old son.

Me: Will you be around tonight to take your brother to his wind ensemble rehearsal? It starts at 7:30 and ends at 8:30.
A-: I can pick him up but I probably won't be able to take him.
Me: OK, what have you got going on?
A-: I might be auditioning for the next school play.
Me: All right, you. Where is my son and what have you done to him?

K-

D-'s birthday is today. My baby is 15. Unlike the other one, D- began life screaming, loud and long, and - believe it or not - needing a haircut. Well, today he needs no haircut preferring the "high and tight" look and he's replaced screaming with talking (guideline: if he's awake, he's talking). He visited the doctor last Saturday; he topped out at 5 ft... Booya!

Grandparents in town, new video games in the offing, Lydia Cake for dessert, it's a good day to be 15.
K-

My kids have been in Scouting their whole lives. My oldest son joined Tiger Cubs in 1992 and has participated - at varying levels - since then. This weekend he wrapped up (mostly) his Eagle Scout service project.

Boy Scouting elicits a wide array of reactions from people: positive, negative, ambivalent, and disparaging. But whatever your feelings, the fact remains that the Eagle Scout service project is unique among Boy Scout requirements.

The Eagle project is somewhat analogous to a PhD dissertation in that the scout must independently think up a meaningful and substantive project that benefits the community (not Scouting), prepare and have approved a written plan, marshal the necessary resources (both money and labor), carry it out, and then write a detailed report documenting the effort including lessons-learned. In this day and age when many people believe kiddy team sports represents the zenith of extracurricular achievement, successfully getting your Eagle service project signed-off is a singular demonstration of initiative, perseverance, and accomplishment.

Unlike most things in A-'s life, I've been mostly hands-off on his Eagle project. This could be why he's just now getting it done despite having had 4 years to do so. But this past Saturday and Sunday, he and I along with a dozen or so other scouts erected about 450 deer protection cages for some trees planted by the Howard County Department of Recreation and Parks in a riparian buffer zone along a tributary of the Patapsco River. Aside from paying for everyone's lunch, I just showed up and did what he told me. He has about 65 trees left to cage because the crew ran out of supplies. This he'll do this coming Saturday. Once his final project report is approved, he'll have completed all his Eagle requirements.

A- has easily spent well more than 100 hours of his own time (probably closer to 200 hours) planning, writing grant proposals, working with the county, soliciting donations, calling people, working in the field, and dealing with delays and other unplanned events. As a parent, it's been very gratifying to watch this project unfold.
K-

Every once in a while I'll get a visitor to Plugs and Dottles as a result of a Google search. Most of the visits are understandable given the search criteria. Yesterday I had a visit because someone searched on:

"Moon Ring Duct Plugs"

What the heck is that all about?
K-

Penny Singleton is not high on most people's list of favorite stars. In fact, I would bet most people have no idea who she is.

Penny Singleton is really known for two things: portraying the comic strip character Blondie in a series of low budget, B-movies during the 1940s and being the voice of Jane Jetson. She died Wednesday in California at the age of 95 and I mourn her passing. Not because I liked the Blondie movies - which I've never seen - or because I have a particular passion for The Jetson's - which I don't - but because for one brief shining instant, Penny Singleton made me a hero among the 33 students who lived with me on the fourth floor of my college dormitory.

As an undergraduate at the University of Michigan, I lived in Rumsey House of West Quad. West Quad is an old dormitory, sturdily built, and as living quarters ran at UofM not too bad. At the time, Rumsey housed about 130 students, all males, and a large percentage of them were jocks. How I ended up there remains a mystery but my room was on the fourth and top floor located at the far end of the hallway. That particular location assured a certain isolation and privacy making 415 Rumsey not a bad place to live. I lived there my four undergraduate years.

A Rumsey tradition was a Sunday night trivia competition. Residents of the four floors would compete against each other throughout the semester. The trivia questions themselves came from the residents; everyone was expected to contribute some number of trivia questions for the contests. The large number of jocks assured that a lot of the questions were about sports. The floor that ultimately won the trivia contests received a keg of beer. This was heady stuff for college undergraduates.

Not being loud, boisterous, big, and strong placed me at a disadvantage in most college male-bonding contests. But I knew trivia. Even as a freshman, I had acquired a vast store of useless knowledge. TV, movies, literature, pop culture, I knew it all. Unless it was sports. Then I knew next to no trivia.

My freshman year, the fourth floor managed to make it to the final contest and we got there in large part because of my knowledge of trivia. I had even acquired a certain favorable reputation among the people in my dorm house because of my trivia skill. When it was our turn to compete, people who didn't otherwise talk to me stopped by to make sure I would be participating.

That final contest was rife with excitement. The honor of our floor, not to mention a goodly quantity of beer, rested on the outcome of this contest. Each question was worth 10 points. The person that clapped first had to answer. Get it wrong and the other side got a chance. Whoever had the most points at the end of 30 minutes was the victor. The quizmaster had his stack of questions, the judges were in place, and we were set to go.

While most of the details have faded with time, a few remain clear. At the end of the 30-minute regulation time, the score was tied. And according to the rules, in the event of a tie, each side had to select a single individual to compete for their side. Five questions were asked. The two individuals competed head-to-head. Whoever had the most correct answers won.

By unanimous decree, the fourth floor chose me. My nerves were stretched taut. I wanted desperately to not disappoint my floor mates.

The quizmaster selected the 5 questions. I was pushed to the front. The tiebreaker round began.

I don't remember the first four questions. I do remember that I got the first two correct because they weren't about sports. The third and then the fourth questions were about sports. My opponent evened the score without problem. After 4 questions, the score was tied. A semester of trivia competition hung in the balance. The guy who correctly answered this next question assured his floor of a delightful evening. The quizmaster asked the fifth and final question:

"Who did the voice of Jane Jetson?"

Both sides paused. The pause lengthened. I racked my brain. I was certain I had the answer but it eluded me. The pause lengthened into an eternity. The silence was deafening. Then it hit me:

*CLAP*
"Fourth floor answers," said the judge.
I swallowed hard.
"Penny Singleton," I said.
The quizmaster paused. He looked up. He nodded his head slightly. "He's right."

YES! Somewhere in the dim recesses of my mind I had remembered a time while watching The Jetson's when my mother casually commented "You know the woman who does her voice is the same woman that played Blondie in the movies. Penny Singleton." And that useless fact stuck in my brain. There it rested until I could pull it out one Sunday evening in 1972. Rumsey House. Trivia championship. Fourth floor victorious. Accolades, honor, and beer.

For that one brief shining instant, I was a hero.

Penny Singleton saved the day.
K-

I'm on travel the next two days and blogging is so hard using a laptop and hotel dial-up connection. I might blog, I might not. I'm keeping a weather eye out for evil to blog about when I return Friday. I'm shooting for 30 percent evil.
K-

My oldest son has generally been a pretty good kid. We have friends with children that create all sorts of problems for them. A- really doesn't. This is not to suggest he's a saint, but in the spectrum of parenting challenges, he usually stays inside the envelope.

Last Saturday he tried pushing the envelope.

Being 17, A- has been eagerly awaiting the premiere of The Matrix Revolutions, which occurred last Wednesday. I suspect that most teenaged boys are psyched to see it. Last week, he told me he was planning to see it on Sunday afternoon.

I knew that going to this movie somewhere special was in his plans because a few weeks ago, he asked me if it would be OK if he drove into Baltimore to see it at The Senator Theater. The Senator is a big, old-fashioned movie theater, a vestige of days past, not at all like typical mall googolplexes. It's got a great big screen and a fantastic sound system. The Senator is about 45 minutes from our house but if he went, he would be forced to drive the dreaded Baltimore Beltway. Because he's been driving for more than a year successfully, I told him it would be OK for him to see it at the Senator.

Saturday night as we were heading out to dinner, I casually asked him how he intended on getting to The Senator. I just wanted to know if he or his friend were driving.

"Well, we're not going to see it at The Senator."
"You're not? Well, then where are you going to see it?"
"We're going to see it at an IMAX theater."
"Really? Which one? The only IMAX theater around here is at the Maryland Science Center and I'm surprised they're showing The Matrix."
"Well, it's someplace in Pennsylvania."
"Pennsylvania!?! Where in Pennsylvania?"
"Some place called King of Prussia. It's right outside of Philadelphia. It's about two hours 15 minutes away. We've already bought tickets."
"So if I hadn't asked, when exactly were you going to tell me that you and your friend were driving up I-95 to Philadelphia?"

Well, it didn't take long before a big argument ensued. A- pleaded that he was old enough. I certainly didn't want two 17 year-olds driving to Philadelphia alone on a Sunday. ("But we'll have our cell phones" and "We're intelligent people" were his counters to my concerns about two kids driving to Philadelphia.) He felt I was being unfair because his friend had already bought the tickets. I felt there was more than a little deception in the whole thing. I'm still not sure I'd have found out if I hadn't asked.

A- still awaits his first trip to King of Prussia.
K-

TW over on Tightly Wound and Highly Strung pointed me at one very wacky website, a site that calculates the amount of good and evil in a blog. And according to the website, the Gematriculator provides results that are absolutely correct. Quite honestly, I'm disappointed that my site isn't a little more evil. Let's see what I can do:

I stay home to watch American Gladiators.
Slamball is what makes Spike TV great.
Anna Nicole Smith in a Speedo.
Vote Pat Buchanan for President.

There, that should jack up my evil quotient.

K-

Saturday I noticed that one of the taillights on my Highlander had burned out. Being the take-charge guy that I am, I decided there was no time to lose in replacing that burned out bulb. Because my Highlander is only a year old, I had never changed one of its taillights before. So I opened the rear hatch, popped open the access panel, and did a quick inspection.

Like most car light bulbs, a small, easy-to-remove socket assembly held the burned out taillight in place. You turn the socket to the left and pull it out. You then gently pry out the bulb from the socket, insert a new one, and put the assembly back in place. What could be simpler?

A new feature of the Highlander is that the electrical connection for the bulb is not made by a wire attached to the back of the socket but by a connection made when you seat the socket in the taillight base and tighten. Consequently, if you're not careful when you remove the socket and burned out bulb, you can drop the thing very easily.

Which is precisely what I did! But did I drop the socket under the spare tire or onto the floor? Oh no. Toyota has built into my Highlander a small shaft right beneath the taillight. That's where I dropped it. And there was no way I could stick my hand down into the shaft. It was virtually inaccessible. The bulb was so far down I couldn’t even see it.

I removed as many of the rugs, cosmetic panels, and structure as I could only to discover that the bottom of the shaft was likewise inaccessible. At this point, I decided I needed something to fish the bulb-and-socket out of the shaft. What's the first thing that came to mind? "A spoon should work," I thought. So I grabbed a spoon from the kitchen, inserted it down into the shaft hoping to reach the bulb, when the damn thing slipped from my grasp and disappeared into the shaft along with the bulb. Not only did I have a bulb rattling around somewhere inside the bowels of my car but now one of my wife's spoons.

I looked around the garage for something longer and less slippery than a spoon. My eyes landed on a sod pin, which is basically a long tent peg with a bent-over top used to hold fresh sod in place. "That will work and the hook on top should make it easy to retrieve the bulb." Naturally the sod pin soon joined the bulb and spoon in the recesses of my car.

I was furious, livid. I'm usually pretty good with my hands. But cars especially seem to be loaded with these kinds of situations: one small mistake and a 20-minute job turns into a 3-hour undertaking. I was getting desperate. Did I have any tool, any device, any mechanism at all that would let me retrieve these wayward objects from my car?

There was one thing and one thing only that had promise, one thing that I knew could help me, a cunning instrument that had saved me from situations like this countless times before.

A wire coat hanger.

I straightened a hanger and carefully inserted the hooked end down into the shaft. Despite the 40-degree temperature, sweat was beading on my brow. My hand steadied. My resolve steeled. I pulled the hanger back out.

Up popped the sod pin! With a little more fishing with the hanger, I was able to angle the spoon into a narrow opening in the bottom of the shaft. Down dropped the spoon into the spare tire well! Finally, and with not a little blood spilled, I was able to retrieve the socket. I replaced the failed bulb and returned the socket to its home. Never have I felt such catharsis from the simple replacement of a light bulb.

And that is why I hate car repairs.
K-

I saw the movie Whale Rider over the weekend. The movie received a number of good reviews last summer including an 89 rating on Rotten Tomatoes Tomatometer, which isn't too bad. I couldn't find anyone interested in seeing it when it was on the big screen so I had to wait till it came out on DVD.

The movie takes place in New Zealand and revolves around a Maori Chief and his granddaughter. The Chief - a stern man but not really a villain - is concerned about who will become leader of his people when his days are over. The Chief's sons have either left or show no desire in following in the family tradition. The mother of the girl died in child birth so no future heirs appear to be forthcoming. The Chief rounds up all the first-born males in the tribe to begin a training process to determine the next chief. The Chief's granddaughter would very much like to be part of the group but is told in no uncertain terms she is not welcome. The girl, Pai, then begins a surreptitious training of her own enlisting the aid of her uncle. Of course we discover his granddaughter has all the attributes necessary to be chief - spirit, character, bravery - except one. It is Maori tradition that only males can be chief.

The photography in the movie is exceptionally beautiful and for that alone I recommend the movie. But it also depicts a rite of passage for both the girl and her grandfather in a way that is rare in standard Hollywood fare.

I would love to be able to say that this movie would be great for middle schoolers. But the story is likely to seem too dry to most kids that age even though its messages of fairness, transformation, and destiny are well worth discussing in the classroom or around the dinner table.
K-

I stayed up late to finish reading The Da Vinci Code. (Late night for me is 11:15.) I liked it but the book got off to a better start than I felt it had at the end. There were several important connections to be made in the story line that I made, I think, before the author intended. That took some of the fun out of reading it. I would definitely recommend The Da Vinci Code but not enough to place it on my Currently Recommending list over on the sidebar. It would have made a great beach book.

I can't decide if The Da Vinci Code will be a successful movie or not. Given the popularity of the book, that it becomes a movie seems inevitable. But with everybody reading it there won't be too many surprised people if the book is put on film. I kind of hope The Da Vinci Code does become a movie; I'd sure like to see a red-eyed, albino monk portrayed in a movie.
K-

Found these mushrooms growing in my back yard this morning. It's been very moist and rainy for the last day. With all the warm weather we've been having this week, I guess all the moisture caused these to spring up literally overnight. Maybe the fact that they surround a sewer access cover has something to do with it.

Note the well tended lawn in which these mushrooms are growing. It's my pride and joy.
K-

My officemate at work provided me with this image. I find it a really amazing demonstration of how human perception can be fooled. And if you don't believe me, print the picture on a high-quality color printer and convince yourself.
K-

So CBS has pulled the Reagan mini-series. They caved because of... what? Political pressure? Maybe. The bottom line? Mostly. Networks will show anything they can get away with if they believe it will hold viewer's interest between advertising segments. So while conservatives may have been the group to apply the pressure, their politics aren't especially material to CBS's decision.

But the decision by CBS to pull the docudrama from the November sweeps sends a disturbing message. The drumbeat of conservative criticism has now been internalized by network executives to the point of censorship of their own entertainment productions.

Shrewd conservative commentators have sold the view that liberals dominate the media and that the news is skewed against them. This belief has fueled the construction of a large network of conservative institutions -- especially on radio and cable television -- that provides conservative viewpoints 24/7. Evidently, conservatives now feel that network television entertainment is also skewed against them and launched diatribes against CBS without actually seeing the Reagan dramatization.

Quite honestly I don't know what sparked all this self-righteous conservative outrage. Liberal revisionist history? Don't buy it. We're talking about entertainment not history. It's got to be history before it can be revisionist and this ain't history. No footnotes or bibliographies are provided. Inaccurate and unfair? So what. A glowing, rose-tinted portrayal of Reagan would be just as inaccurate and unfair and I'm pretty sure conservatives wouldn't squawk in that case. It disrespects someone who can't defend himself because he is incapacitated? Hollywood has never been a bastion of propriety.

If this production had come out of CBS news or was destined for 60 Minutes, then the issue of accuracy becomes much more important. But this mini-series had no such pedigree. While conservatives would probably like to believe it was their brave, relentless voice from the right that shut down what would have likely been just one more mediocre TV mini-series, in truth their harangue resulted in a more than a little disturbing act of censorship.
K-

PS. For a good exposition on this issue from a more conservative viewpoint, check out Joe Kelley's The Sake of Argument. It's a great blog (I love it.) that "explores the true water cooler topics that will envelope daily dialogue." One of his entries today gives you an opportunity to opine on this issue if you're so inclined.

The high temperature in Baltimore today was 80F. The high temperature Saturday was 81F.

It is hotter than it has any right to be in November.
K-

Sorry but I can't resist.

Michigan - 27
Michigan State - 20

K-

D- spent last night with friends and for the first time not trick-or-treating. One of the big things he and his friends did for entertainment was watch the horror movie, Child's Play. That's the movie with the maniacal doll, Chucky.

We didn't know D- would be watching this movie and we certainly didn't know the movie was rated 'R'. But what's done can't be undone. Anyway, the fact that he watched an 'R' rated movie prompted this day-after question from him: "Daddy, how come you'll let me watch an 'R' rated movie but you won't let me have video games rated 'Mature'?"

Being the great dad that I am, I knew exactly what to say. So I told him...