Not Makin' Bacon

Sometimes I do wear white after Labor Day.
My parents always, ALWAYS, reminded me that it was vitally important to start the day with a good breakfast; but now I hardly ever eat breakfast - except on Saturdays. 

The above two examples are telling of just what sort of rebel I have now become.

Bacon is big.  Bacon is just not for breakfast, BLT's and cheese burgers anymore.  There is a bacon flavored drink, there are bacon cup cakes and bacon covered chocolates.  Indeed bacon is everywhere (except maybe some synagogues - but I even wonder about what goes on behind closed kosher doors.  You never really know).  The allure of bacon is hard to deny.

But come one fine morning in April, a good Saturday morning at that, I laid out the strips of thick-cut pepper bacon on the broiler sheet, moved the oven rack up to the second-highest notch and set the stove top controls in anticipation of crispy bacon for me and the wife.  Nothin' doin'!  And then to my horror, I watched as the upper broiler element began to arc and spark, sizzle and then fizzle; then it was gone in a blaze of glory. 

Sherlock, why is our bacon not ready? 

My dear Watson, we are not makin' bacon,

but the solution is elemental.

The Iron skillet did an OK job as a back-up and has continued to do so over the past few Saturday mornings, but it is not my preference.  Now the broiler element has been detached from the oven, a process as simple as I had hoped.  On Monday I will visit the used appliance store on the end of Main Street and ask them if they "got one like this, only without the hole in it?"  My bet is they do.

After the reassembly of the faulty oven part using a handful of sheet metal screws, I will be in hog heaven next Saturday morning.

Easter Bunny & Old Hare

How do you know when it is really-o, truly-o, actually the end of winter?
Some look for the arrival of robins.
Others await the blossoming of the crocus. 
Some just go by feel, or maybe watch the exterior temperature. 
Some just wait for the day on the calendar that says. "First Day of Spring".
All the above observations and conclusion are justified; as for me, I think the season's measure comes with two consecutive weekends of lawn mowing.  Today, was Weekend #2 of cutting the grass.  Spring has Sprung. It is official.

As I was cutting the grass last week for the first time since February; I thought back several years when it was a dilemma as to whether I should cut the backyard lawn on Easter weekend.  Easter is when the fresh new grass (and a lot more weeds than I care to admit) has lept up tall and green and almost always "needs" cutting before Easter Week.  But, in years past, if I cut the grass, where would the Easter Bunny and Easter Iguana hide the eggs?  My annual solution to this dilemma?: The grass always stayed long and obscuringly shaggy for Easter Sunday.

This year's Easter Sunday grass was still shaggy, but there were no hidden eggs behind tuffs of dandelions or obscured plastic egg-encased Peeps tucked under leaves or goodie-filled eggs stashed under the long grass at the base of the magnolia tree.  This Easter my backyard was disappointingly ordinary.  It was no longer a dewy wonderland visited in the earliest morning hours by the Easter Bunny and the Iguana who transformed the turf into an enchanting treasure hunt for the fancied colored eggs.  And when the egg hunters returned with brimming baskets and asked, "Did we get them all?"  Then all that was found was counted, but the total was still under the limit because of those especially cleverly hidden and hard-to-find eggs.  Then, we the parents were prodded into a game of; "You're getting warm, you're getting hotter! Oh, you are now getting colder... warmer, warmer.., red hot!" set of clues.

 I hear these days that the Easter Bunny is busy at other locations stirring great anticipation for another generation of egg hunters.  And around here the Easter Bunny is just an old hare that slips into the store and picks up a few Easter candies at 50% off sale and unceremoniously drops off the chocolates on the kitchen counter.  No basket, no dyed eggs, just a good sale. 

Today I was merely rejoicing in the fragrant Spring smell of fresh cut grass and the vivid greens of new invigorated life.  And while pushing the humming power mower and making my orderly passes over the shaggy growth in the side yard this afternoon, what was it that caught my eye?  Why is was

a purple plastic egg next to the irises. 

Easter Iguana
Surprises me this year

I laughed, The Easter Iguana still remembers me!  It is Eastertide!  The Mystery and the unexpected do indeed live!

Donut Picnic

When I was maybe 10 years old, the thought occurred to me, "If I ever have a million dollars, I will have a donut every day."

I do not have a million dollars.
And even though I could have a donut every day, it seem like I average about 1 donut every 3 months.

With a bright Spring Saturday looming, I look across the pillow to my wife and I proclaim, "I feel like a million dollars today.  Let's go get some donuts!  -- In fact we are going to have a donut picnic this very morning!"

She insists that if it is going to be that kind of a day, we must go all the way down Garland Avenue into Dallas and get our donuts at Hypnotic Donuts.  Hypnotic Donuts is patterned after Voodoo Donuts in Eugene, Oregon, a place we have already been.  The proprietor tried to get a Voodoo Donut franchise, but was rebuffed, so he settled on Hypnotic instead of Voodoo; hypnotism is less of a dark art than voodoo.  This is my kind of adventure.

I planned on leaving Hypnotic Donuts with a half-dozen of their specialty items, but almost left in either a new SUV or perhaps hand-cuffs.  The donut shop is a popular place, and we had to park way down the strip mall parking lot.  Once we had a box of donuts, including

• Canadian Health Care (Strip of bacon on a maple bar)
• Ski Accident (Red raspberry filled long-jump topped with powdered sugar)
• Almond Around the World (chocolate cake ball topped with shaved almonds, coconut & frosting)
• Apple Fritter (great taste, but not so unique)
• A Bavarian Creme & a Blueberry Cake (no real blue berries)

I walked down the walk as Sue carried the box.  I pulled out my keys and unlocked the doors and slipped into the silver SUV.  Sue's door did not unlock so I hit the unlock button from the driver-side console, and as she opened her door she said "When did this sticker get on the side window?"  I did not have an answer, but I was about to [try to] put my key in the ignition she said, "This is not our car!"  I looked, and she was right.  We quickly extricated ourselves from our new SUV and I locked the doors as we shut them as we nonchalantly shuffled on to our real vehicle.  We then laughed at ourselves (she telling me "Not a 'visual learner' today are we?") and then I hoped that by my locking the car doors as we slid out, that I did not lock the true owner out of their car.  But what's done is done - we were back on track for the Donut Picnic.

We drove way up highway 78 to the north end of Lake Lavon and spread out the picnic blanket in the morning sun and fed each other donuts and drank OJ.  We also selected a secluded place for our picnic just to make sure that if the law had followed us we could easily hide until we lured the cops away from our hideout with a trail of donut crums before we made our escape.  It was a brilliant plan, and so far it has worked to perfection.

The French Room

Oooh lala! Mei oui
(or something like that)

For Honeymoon v. 27.0 we had a big night scheduled, centered around the Adolphus Hotel.  I checked with the concierge about reservations for two that night for dining in the French Room. 
"Oh, but messier, it a Friday night; you will need good luck to find a table with us tonight, no?  But, allow me to check the list of reservations, please."

"Messier, we have good news for you and madame, we have several open tables."

We selected an 8:45 table for two from what we were given as available times.  A fine late dining experience and oh so European.

"And messier is familiar with the dress code in the French Room, no?"

I said I was aware of the dress code and would meet or exceed expectations.  However, with a twinge of a looming faux pas, madame asked for a recitation of the code. 
  -- No denim or athletic shoes, and the gentleman must wear a dress jacket. 
No problems, or as I think they say in France, 'akoona-matata'.

While touring the attractions of downtown Dallas, we ran into a troop of Girl Scouts selling cookies.  They had but one box of Do-Si-Does left.  I made the purchase and nibbled on them in bed back in our room as we rested up from the day's hike and awaited our reserved dinner hour.

Sue was dressed in a vivid green and blue dress with contrasting elegant black trim and a matching sweater shawl she had chosen for the occasion.  While I cleaned up and wore a suit and tie.

A toast to 27! Cheers!

Seated at a candle-lit table for two under a ceiling painted with cherubs and imperial-breasted women in the rococo style and illuminated by large chandeliers, we ordered a couple glasses of champagne as we looked over the menu for a 3 course meal. 

First a toast to 27! 

I of course ordered the scallops, my favorite dish; while Sue selected the halibut.  Our white-jacketed waiter confided that these two course were his favorites on the menu. 

Ceiling of The French Room

Adolphus Hotel

It was a fine meal and after our dessert plates were whisked away, I was brought the check while the lady was presented a baked lemon cake specialty treat in a carrying bag with script lettering proclaiming

The French Room, Adolphus Hotel -

the not so subtle implication was treat the lady nice and she will ask to be brought back again and the man will not be able to say no, even after receiving the tab.  I say for that night, it was worth it.



Happy 27th Anniversary
Inscribed in chocolate around the plate
for our final course - Chocolate Raspberry Dome



Honeymoon #27

Old Fashioned.
Old-timey.
Throw-back.
Retro.

Why way back when we were married, there was no internet - there was nothing digital!  We had to address individual paper envelopes and send invitation through the US Mail and pay 14 cents a stamp per envelope!  And we paid a photographer who took photos of the event with film that had to be developed in chemicals and the pictures would not be ready for a 6 weeks after the event!

Times have changed.  But for a lark, we celebrated our 27th honeymoon with an old fashion flair; a train ride into the big city and spent two days walking around downtown Dallas enjoying some old sites, new attractions and the company of one another.  I made reservations for the Adolphus Hotel www.hoteladolphus.com and a later dinner at the five-diamond French Room.

Our trip to celebrate the past began on Friday morning at the Garland train station where we waited with one piece of luggage to catch a ride on the Blue Line to the Akard Street Station and then the 4 block walk to the Adolphus Hotel.  While dressed in short-sleeves and light weight clothing, we could feel the chilly breeze raising goose bumps on our skin - or was their another reason?  Typical of a Texas spring, by the time we finished lunch the north breeze had turned and come up from the Gulf of Mexico to the south and it was now humid and warm.  The night ended with a thunderstorm and an inch of rain.

We checked in the Adolphus, built in the early 20th Century by Adolphus Bush of the St. Louis brewery fortune to link St. Louis (then the preeminent American Mid-West city) with the the rising fortunes of cotton and oil emerging city of Dallas, Texas.  It is an opulent hotel and the French Room, worthy of Louis XIV, has maintained the highest rating for decades.  We checked in and confirmed our dinner reservations, and were gently reminded of the dress code for dining in the French Room; no denim or athletic shoes, gentlemen must be attired in a dress jacket [neck ties have recently been removed from the requirements].  I assured the concierge we would meet or exceed the standards.

Adolphus Hotel on Commerce Street

Adolphus Lobby

After leaving our bag in our room on the 15th floor, we then strolled out to explore for lunch.  We ended up at the Iron Cactus (Mexican cuisine) in Pegasus Plaza behind the Magnolia building [Magnolia was the predecessor to Mobil Oil and HQ'ed in Dallas; Magnolia Oil's symbol was a red Pegasus flying horse from Greek mythology]. 

Dining al fresco in Pegasus Plaza - of quartz it's such a nice day

Atop the Magnolia building is a Red Pegasus that was once the defining landmark of Dallas. 

Red Pegasus
Flying over the
Magnolia Building
Downtown Dallas

I was told by the geologist who hired me for my first professional job, that his dad used to take the family for a fried chicken picnic dinner on the levee of the Trinity River on the outskirts of Dallas, and there were many other doing the same.  And when the sun set and it became dark enough, the Magnolia Building Pegasus would be lit up red to the delight of all the folks watching from the river bank.  And once Pegasus was lit, then it was time for the kids to go home and go to bed.  We stayed up beyond the Pegasus lighting that night for a late dinner.

After lunch it was a hike through the downtown canyon to the newly opened Perot Museum of Science.  This new addition to Dallas is so popular, one has to get reservations with the time of permitted entry printed on the tickets.  The earliest we could get in was 2 in the afternoon that Friday.  With the 3 hours of allotted time, we chose to visit the Minerals and Energy floor and of course the dinosaur exhibit.  It has been years since our last lab practical exam in Mineralogy, but we challenged each other to identify what was in the display cases before looking at the identification key; is is spodumene, fluorite, aragonite or smithsonite?  This time it was fun trying to identify the specimens, but I did much better when it was for a grade.

Can you identify these minerals?

Staurolite, Staurolite,

First metamorphic mineral I see tonight,

I wish I may,

I wish I might...

Oh Shuck!

It is Kyanite

[a little geologic humor]





Malawisaurous smiles a greeting to
Perot Museum visitors



Perot Museum
Dallas' Latest Attractions



Tyrannosaurus Rex
Still looking hungry after all of these years



Alamosaurous drops in from the
Big Bend Country in West Texas
He is the largest known species of dinosaur

Thing Spring Break Break Free

The nest is empty.
The College Savings accounts are approaching empty.
To sum it up: We have 2 "Things" in college; Spring Break routine around here is pretty normal work-a-day fare now-a-days for us.  But Spring Break is a big deal for the those in school.



Thing 1 and Thing 2
Heading toward Spring Break

Thing 1 [Inga]  stayed close to home in Eugene, Oregon, enjoying the gray skies and misty spring Northwest weather.  But their was purpose to her inertia, she was working to finish writing her Honors College senior thesis on the University's recently implemented smoking (tobacco) cessation program and the affect of a smoke-free campus policy, which she hopes to get published.  And anyhow, where would she go over Spring Break anyway? -- because she doesn't even own a car.  BUT wait!  Mr. Dylan says "Things" (or at least the times) are a changin'.  How true.  It is always true.

As Inga has known since Christmas, she will be getting a used car from her Grandparents in Montana handed down to her.  Spring Break seemed like the best time for this new thing for Thing 1.  The Grandparents drove their old Subaru to Eugene where they plied Inga and her friends with restaurant food over the weekend and then on Monday they went down to the DMV to transfer title and get Oregon plates on the car + an Oregon driver's license as one of her new accessories for the grown-up world.

First trip with the new wheels was to Silver Falls State Park with Sean and the Grandparents for a good day of high scenic value and Fred Myer Deli sandwich's.  Can it get any better?

Rolling in largess and with her temporary license, Inga drove to the humble Eugene airport where she dropped of the travelers and kept their car and bid them well as they caught a plane to Seattle and then transferred on to Kalispell where the Senior Bus awaited their arrival and took them to their familiar doorstep and a garage now back to a reasonable population of the new Subaru and the dualie Dodge diesel pickup.

Thing 2 [Grant] had grandiose plans for his week off.  Grant and his two apartment mates left Friday afternoon as soon as Thing 2's interview project with a Hall of Fame Hacky-Sacker was concluded, audio and video edited and turned in to the Journalism professor before Spring break.  The 3 of them had the week ahead meticulously planned out, down to the mile and time.  They would take Grant's Camry and drive all night to Port St. Lucie, Florida, while in their rearview mirror Columbia, MO was getting yet another dump of 6" of snow an windy frigid weather.  The Florida Atlantic Coast was 80.  Good choice.

The plan was not so much for the Spring Break beach party, but for the final week of Major League Baseball's Spring Training season.  Sean is a huge NY Mets fan and so they hung out mostly around the Mets games as Sean's team developed their roster for the coming 2013 season.   While sitting next to the bull pen, Grant scored a souvenir ball from Mets pitching coach, Ricky Bones.  The three mates enjoyed the casual atmosphere and sunny weather around the stadium while exchanging banter with the ballplayers and former Mets pitcher and current commentator on the MLB Network, Al Leiter.  

They did get to the beach a time or two and also drove to Miami's South Beach to check out the scene.  A stop for Memphis-style ribs on the way home through Memphis, but alas, Grant has honed his skills on ballplayers and barbecue; and the verdict is:
1) the Mets will struggle again this year and
2) nothing is ever going to beat Texas barbecue.