Half-demolished Kitchen of the Soul

Woo-hoo, I'm recession-proof

In theory. According to Forbes.com, my city, Charlotte, NC, is one of the top ten recession-proof cities.

We examined unemployment data supplied by the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics for the year ending in February 2008 to see which areas are most adding or subtracting jobs. Next, we looked at the BLS data on job growth in non-farm payrolls, through February 2008, for construction, education and health services, financial activities, information, leisure and hospitality, manufacturing, natural resources and mining, professional and business services, trade, transportation and utilities, and the BLS's catch-all category, "other services."

We also took into account median home price data from the National Association of Realtors--from the fourth quarter of 2006 to the fourth quarter of 2007--to see which areas posted the largest annual gains. Our data don't account for the impact of declining sales in the first several months of this year.

Finally, our rankings were adjusted using data from a November 2007 report, "U.S. Metro Economies: The Mortgage Crisis," by the U.S. Conference of Mayors. It lists each city's estimated gross metropolitan product growth by projecting how rising foreclosures and falling home prices would affect overall levels of productivity in local economies.

Others include Oklahoma City, San Antonio, Austin, Houston, Dallas, San Jose, Raleigh, Salt Lake City and Seattle.

However, my clients do business all over the country and overseas, so if things suck there it trickles down to sucking for me. So here's keeping the fingers crossed.

They might want to rewrite this

From my answering machine:

"Now there's an affordable burial insurance plan that guarantees your acceptance regardless of your health..."

I think most people would want to be pretty dead first.''

Down a size

Or maybe not. I tried on some summer-weight jeans today. Same brand and cut as my other jeans, just a lighter fabric. My usual size, 36, was loose. They didn't have 35's so I tried a pair of 34's. Perfect. I suspect, though, they either changed the pattern or, in keeping with the thickening of America, they just resized everything a notch so people could keep wearing the "same" size.

How about starting with spelling?

Sometimes you just need to get mad

Beat your head against the wall long enough and you can finally get rid of old tile. Though a mason's chisel helps a lot.

A sour start to the day

Flipping channels yesterday I came upon a discussion of how vinegar can help with hypertension, high cholesterol and, most importantly to me, diabetes. The claims seemed a little like woo-woo alternative medicine, but it was PBS, not an infomercial. Hmmmmm.

So I looked it up. Even the American Diabetes Association says there's something to it. Okay.

This morning I has a couple of tablespoons of apple cider vinegar with bread. That'll wake you right up. Maybe I should cut it with some olive oil. And try balsamic vinegar instead.

Music Video Monday: Shawn Mullins

Not being a big follower of current mainstream music (since so much of it is boring), I thought Shawn Mullins was my own private discovery. (Don't we all think we're the only one in the world who knows about something?)

So I was very surprised to hear "Lullabye" over the supermarket music system. If the dweebs at Muzak had this song, then maybe there was something I didn't know. A quick Wikipedia check revealed all. Grammy nominee? Can't get much more mainstream than that. And several YouTube videos? Oh well.

Below is the studio version. Imagine yourself pushing a grocery cart. Through Ralph's. At Third and Vermont. At 3 a.m. In 1977. Fresh out of collage. Trying to figure if you afford some wieners to go with your mac & cheese.

Lullabye / Shawn Mullins

The Terrible Shoe of Vengeance

I was walking my mostly blind dog down a wooded path one day. Or, rather, I was holding the retractible leash as the dog sniffed his way along at his own pace.

I happened to look at the ground just as I stepped on a line of ants crossing the path. Since I was wearing waffle-soled shoes, some ants were crushed and some escaped.

Now, if those ants had the ability to think like humans, they might have wondered in their anguish, “Why did this happen to us?” It’s an old question: why do bad things sometimes happen to good people and good things sometimes happen to bad people? We—and the ants—want to make sense of senseless things.

“Oh no! Chucky, Trixie and Dwight got smashed!”

“Yeah, well they deserved it because they never share their picnic crumbs.”

“But Nick never shares and he was spared.”

“Um, that’s to teach him a lesson and give him a chance to change.”

“And what about Lori? Everyone loves her and now she’s just a greasy spot in the dirt.”

“Well, let’s see, that’s um... Oh, I got it! She was so good that now she’s in special place where she’ll never have to carry things fifty times larger than herself ever again.”

“Dying was a reward?”

“Yeah. Now don’t you feel better about everything?”

Of course, it’s unlikely they would ever consider that none of it had anything to do with them. The shoe that smashed their families and friends and spared others wasn’t an agent of justice, neither was the man wearing the shoe. He was just a slightly bored guy following a blind dog that was following some scent left by some creature that was busy doing its own thing.

The man and the dog were there at that time because it fit the man’s schedule, which was dictated by the schedules of his clients, whose schedules were dictated by still others.

The man and the dog and the shoe were on that particular path because they hadn’t been that way in a while.

Ant squashing had been on no one’s agenda. It just happened. It had no meaning. That might not be comforting to the ants, but it greatly simplifies things for them.

Republicans vote against motherhood

Earlier this week, the House of Representatives wasted a few moments of taxpayer-funded time to vote on a feel-good resolution "celebrating the role of mothers in the United States and supporting the goals and ideals of Mother's Day." It initially passed unanimously because who doesn't love mothers, right?

Then, in a grandstanding procedural move, Rep. Todd Tiahrt (R-Kan.) called for a recorded vote.

Mr. Speaker, I ask for a recorded vote because I’m sure every member wants their mother to know that they have supported the goals of Mother’s Day.

Sure, let them each go on record pledging their love and support for mothers. Or not. Tiahrt and 177 other Republicans proceeded to vote against the resolution.

So it's official: Republicans hate mothers. Remember that in November.

Is there an entomologist in the house?

This pair of Luna moths (or is it one and a half) are on my house right now.

One looks like it's still emerging and it's wings will spread and dry sometime later. I hope it doesn't happen tonight. I want to see it.

They seem to be alive, because when I blew on them, one spread it's wings a little more and the other repositioned a leg. They could be mating. I'm not up on bug sex.

My older brother, John, has a Luna in his insect collection. Maybe he knows, even though he's a speech pathologist, not an entomologist. A father, not a moth-er. (Groan)

MOTH WATCH UPDATE

The fully developed moth has gone off to do what moths do at night. The other moth-like creature, to prove it's alive, has moved a couple of inches.

MOTH WATCH UPDATE 2

It's morning and it's gone. Either under its own power or as a bird's breakfast.

Mutter under your breath and ye shall receive

I beginning to think I do have magical powers.

Yesterday I was driving down a road I use often, grumbling at the ever increasing number of potholes. "They need to fix these!"

When I returned from my meeting, a lane was closed and traffic backed up. "Now what?" As I got closer I saw what. A crew was patching potholes.

Then, after venting here about the neighbor's dogs and lights, there was no barking last night and no lights that I was aware of. Okay, that was probably because I was so tired I tumbled down into the seventh level of sleep and was oblivious to everything. But that wouldn't explain the pothole repairs. No, I have superpowers. I am Grumble-Man!

What light through yonder window breaks?

My neighbor’s large, neurotic dogs spend their nights on a sun porch that projects sound perfectly across the yard and into my bedroom. Even with my double-pane windows closed. Through brick, wood, insulation, plaster, paint and three inches of foam in my headboard. I know this because the dogs start up a mournful, discordant, howling duet each time a siren approaches the hospital two miles away. They also bark at the wind. Or carry on conversations with other insomniac dogs in the region.

I keep resolving to speak to the neighbor about it. But she’s divorced with a two-year-old, so her life is hard enough without me jumping on her case.

Now there’s an additional annoyance. I discovered it last night, shortly after 2 a.m., when the dogs woke me up. The neighbor has installed motion sensing security lights. That shine in my window.

Naturally, I assumed the security lights had sensed someone outside our houses. Groggy, with heart pounding, I peeked out the window. ACK! Light in my eyes! So I changed position. Hmmmm, nothing out there. I went to a different window. And then another. No sign of life. Or movement. Except the bushes swaying in the wind right in front of the sensor. Ah. We’re being attacked by shrubbery.

Now I was fully awake and loaded with adrenalin. I couldn’t get back to sleep. The lights eventually went off. Only to go back on as soon as the system reset. Over and over. For more than two hours. That’s how long it was before I finally drifted off.

Only to be reawakened at 5:12 by baying hounds.

Synchronicity the dumb way

If I happen to be in the north part of the county around meal time, I usually go to a particular Mexican restaurant. And so I did today. It had completely slipped my mind today is Cinco de Mayo until I got to the restaurant, which is named, uh, Cinco de Mayo.

Oh, and no, I don't eat only Mexican food. Though I could be happy doing so.

Music Video Monday: John Mellencamp

They don't build 'em like they used to

Welcome to my half-demolished half bath. I was originally going to panel over the 50-year-old tile, but some measuring revealed an extra layer on the wall would make the toilet not fit.

Hello sledge hammer, pry bar, angle grinder and metal sheers. Meet inch-thick concrete and expanded metal lath. I should do a Tom Sawyer and convince an anger management class to pay for the privilege of taking out their aggression on my wall.

As you can see, I'm down to the plumbing. That means I can't just smash indiscriminately at the wall. I guess I have to see if the tool rental place has a compact jack hammer. Or a laser beam death ray cutter.

The walk of love

I have my iPod set to play songs alphabetically. On this afternoon's walk I found myself in the middle of the tunes that start with Love.

Love Is Blindness
Love Is a Drug
Love Is a Drug
Love Machine
Love Me or Leave Me Alone
Love Me Tomorrow
Love Me Two Times
Love Me Two Times
Love Minus Zero/No Limit
Love On Top of Love
Love Sneaking Up On You
Love Song
Love Supreme
Love the One You’re With
Love Train
Love You Madly
Love/Hate Transmission
Lover
Lovin’ Me
Loving Her Was Easier

How lovely.

Visionary government. Don’t laugh.

Shortly after I moved to this city there was talk of building a light rail system. The proponents were looking at the growth, doing the math and concluding there would be a need. Opponents claimed it would be a waste of money, that no one would ride, that what we needed were more roads (though where we would shoehorn those roads no one could say). The plan went ahead anyway, with bitching and moaning all along the way.

The first leg of the system opened for business a couple of months ago, just in time for $4-a-gallon gas and an economy going bad. Now other areas are whining they don't have their train yet.

The train has been so well patronized that some of the park and ride lots have run out of space. I guess that’s one part of the future the planners didn’t get quite right.

We could use more "terrorists" like this

From USA Today:

U.S. has Mandela on terrorist list

WASHINGTON — Nobel Peace Prize winner and international symbol of freedom Nelson Mandela is flagged on U.S. terrorist watch lists and needs special permission to visit the USA. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice calls the situation "embarrassing," and some members of Congress vow to fix it.

All the news that can scare you

The current issue of Skeptic has an article critiquing modern news coverage. Among the examples of how the news gets it very wrong is its coverage of child molestation.

Media coverage has precisely inverted both the reality and risk of child sexual assault.

It explains:

According to the U. S. Department of Justice, in a given year there are about 88,000 documented cases of sexual abuse against juveniles. In the roughly 17,500 cases involving children between ages 6 and 11, strangers are the perpetrators just 5% of the time—and just 3% of the time when the victim is under age 6. (Further, more than a third of such molesters are themselves juveniles, who may not be true “predators” so much as confused or unruly teens.) Overall, the odds that one of America’s 48 million children under age 12 will encounter an adult pedophile at the local park are startlingly remote. The Child Molestation Research & Prevention Institute states: “Right now, 90% of our efforts go toward protecting our children from strangers, when what we need to do is focus 90% of our efforts toward protecting children from the abusers who are not strangers.” That’s a diplomatic way of phrasing the uncomfortable but factually supported truth: that if your child is not molested in your home—by you, your significant other, or someone else you invited in—chances are your child will never be molested anywhere.

That doesn't mean we shouldn't be concerned about evil strangers, only that the concern should be proportional and appropriate to the reality. People in positions of trust—family, teachers, clergy and the like—are the ones to be watched most closely. But the news likes a bogeyman on the loose. Aaaak! Run and hide! In front of your TV, of course, because next up on 24-hour Nooze, we pander to xenophobes!

One pot wonder

Sometimes I just throw whatever looks good (or about to go bad) into a pot and hope for the best. The results are varied. Today's lunch worked out exceptionally well.

I mixed some hamburger with some ground turkey, browned it in olive oil, drained the fat, added some cumin, dried onions, chipotle salsa, fat-free refried beans and Rotel tomatoes with jalapeño peppers. I spooned part of it into a bowl, sprinkled on some reduced-fat 4-cheese mix, topped it with a couple of thin avacado slices and served it with some toasted cornbread.

Yum. The avocado was a nice mellow balance to the peppers. And there's more left for tomorrow.

Oh yeah, there's that

Prince William County, Virginia, decided it needed to identify illegal aliens and detain them for deportation. They decided to require police to check the immigration status of anyone they stopped if they thought there was probable cause. Okay.

To help fend off claims of racial profiling and the expensive law suits that would follow, it was decided to equip all police cruisers with video cameras to record interactions with stopped drivers. But the county couldn’t afford the $3 million that would cost. Without the cameras they’d have to severely scale back the plan.

The plan was popular because it was believed the county would save on public services overburdened by immigrants. Indeed, when news of the pending deportation program spread, thousands of immigrants moved from the county. A form of success for the ill-fated program, right? However, with the economy already turning sour, the loss of immigrant spending has hurt businesses, which means even lower tax revenues for the county.

Woo-hoo, I got polled

Now my opinion on the presidential primary will be counted in some poll that will probably show up somewhere before Tuesday. That slice of the North Carolina pie for Obama? I'm in there.

Clean. Air.

I learned my air conditioning wasn't working very well (if at all) last week when it got up into the 80s. No big surprise. The unit is at least twenty years old and I haven't done anything with it in the twelve years I've been in this house. I called a repairman and got in the mood to buy a whole new unit, if necessary.

It wasn't necessary. All he needed to do was clean out ages of dirt and pump in three pounds of freon. You think gasoline is expensive? Freon is $50/lb. But on a warm, muggy, sweaty, sleepless Southern summer night I'd gladly pay $150 to make it all go away. In fact, I have. When the power went out for a couple of days last summer, I got a hotel room rather than suffocate at home.

Running out of movies

At one time I had over a hundred films in my Netflix queue. Classics, indies, foreign, fairly recent movies or TV shows I missed... I kept adding more selections and the number hovered around fifty the past few years.

But now my queue is down to only twenty, with another dozen waiting to become available in DVD. The recommendations from Netflix have almost dried up and I seldom select from what they offer. I rarely watch a movie twice, but there are a few in the queue I saw years ago on the big screen. I've ordered wildly popular movies I didn't think I'd like just to see what the fuss was about and see if I was wrong. (I usually wasn't.) I've scrounged through old listings from film festivals looking for obscure gems. If I find a director, writer or actor I like, I'll check out other films by them. I've even dipped down into some films with only a two-and-a-half-star rating.

So, I'll have to find something else to do when the well runs dry. A sabbatical from movies. I guess I'll read. I remember reading. I should probably start with the unfinished books on the floor next to my comfy chair. After that, any recommendations?

Music Video Monday: Ani DiFranco