Weaver's WAY too much!

Let me start by saying that I'm a naturalist at heart. I love the environment. Its full of interesting sensory inputs, some nice, some ugly, but never boring. The biological aspect especially always piques my interest... going tide pooling, snorkeling, gardening, and hiking are fascinating and fun to me because there's no limit to the biodiversity you can experience. I even love virology because I think that those little guys are just intriguing.

I mean, if one of those parasites or viral swarms end up inside me, KILL EM ALL!, but from an abstract observer's perspective, they're way cool. I mean, really, that's part of being a naturalist: Killing and Death and Survival. If you believe in some concept of "Mother Nature", you're fooling yourself. Nature is not particularly mothering. Nature is a ignorant blunt brute of a dude. Kind of like Schwarzenegger. Let's call it "The TermiNature" from now on...

I mean, if you've heard about these things called hurricanes or if you've seen the awesome video of a baby water buffalo being mauled, (By a crocodile and a pack of lions SIMULTANEOUSLY- Awesome!), then there's no way you can come out on the other side thinking that Thoreau's vision of the woods was complete.

So, that's why I like to have a connection to my food. Its visceral and its real and it just makes it taste better. I come from a family of hunters and fishers and cultivators and gatherers. I, myself, find the hunting part boring which is why, as deer season approaches, I will probably be maintaining radio silence with my Dad and Brother(s) so I don't have to hear the endless strategy sessions. But I appreciate the concept. I would rather fish and gather and cultivate. To each his own. But everybody should have some connection to their food, rather than seeing your steak sterile and packaged in saran-wrap at the grocery store.



If that concept appeals, or especially if it turns you off, you should read this great book... The Scavenger's Guide to Haute Cuisine.



All this poses a small problem, living in the city. Our yard does not appear to be vegetable friendly without some serious tree trimming and I wouldn't trust anything I pulled out of Philadelphia's Schyukill River to be viable in a frying pan. So I joined Weaver's Way Co-Op.

Located in West Mt. Airy, a short drive from our house, Weaver's Way has a store that provides fresh locally grown produce, including stuff cultivated on the nearby farm. I'm going to work at the farm when I can so that the stuff I buy has a somewhat direct output from the work that I put in. The farm's blog/website is really fun with some great recipes and you should check it out. They're all about community and living locally. And we did some comparison shopping of the dairy and produce we got there. Almost everything was cheaper than at the local Acme down the street.





My issues come from all the other stuff Weaver's Way sells and the aura that I get when I go in there to shop. The Free-Range All-Organic Gluten-Free Soy-Based Sugar mocks me from the top shelf... (On Special this month for only $2.79!!!)

Everything about that product implies that food is not a part of nature.

It implies that food is about this crazy Health-Freak attitude trying to stave off death and never age and botox injections.

It implies that food is about Political Activism and fighting corporations and Republicans and big oil.

It implies that food is about Consumerism and wealth and endless choices and suburban shopping malls.

I live over in East Mt. Airy, the side where the demographic is older, less politically active, and poorer. And I wonder how many of my neighbors really have the time, inclination, or money to think about Free-Range All-Organic Gluten-Free Soy-Based Sugar.

I just want them (and me) to be able to eat a Real Tomato along side their box of Tuna Helper. But, if I, who have time, inclination, and money, am put off by all that the Sugar on the shelf implies, how much more are they likely to be put off?

I don't want my dinner ruined by all the meaning you're placing on my Tomato. Can't we just have a Tomato?

Disclaimer: It should be noted that The Speaker of the House, has friends and family who are Gluten Intolerant and Lactose Intolerant. In theory, my critique of the aforementioned sugar is not meant to be an entirely damning reflection on them.

(Although, one has to wonder whether the world didn't get along better when you just didn't eat foods that gave you diarrhea rather than trying to artificially fabricate some approximation thereof. I do believe in allergies. I just think that most of the world has spent the last ten centuries sucking it up and dealing with it.)

That said, the point is that the sugar makes the Co-op socially inaccessible to the folks who need good vegetables and dairy most. Plus, people who eat that shit by choice are dumb-asses.

Trophy for House Rules Eptitude

Here at The-House-Rules, we love to bitch about people who do us wrong. It could be some doof in the plumbing aisle whose motto is “You can’t do it, and we can’t help”, some doof who wanted to charge us twice for work they haven’t completed, or some doof who’s using our city as a playground for his corrupt vision of civil service. Either way, people’s work rarely measures up to our high standards. I mean, when you’re this awesome…

…how could they possibly? And we want, no, NEED, to tell you, our devoted readers, about it. Both to punish the aforementioned offenders and to use their lack of mad skillz as a means to bolster our own lagging self-esteem.

(“Quick! Look at the sucky carpenter and ignore us as we create another *&^%ing leak in this plumbing system while trying to turn off the exterior hose bibs for the winter.”)

But every so often, some people just totally impress you with their Eptitude. (Made that word up, but it totally works. DON’T ARGUE! It totally works.) Their service is awesome, their price is worth it, and they are ever so pleasant to deal with. Here’s this week’s Trophy for House Rules Eptitude…

Rick Finn of Finn HVAC: Recommended by some folks at work, Rick called me back on Thursday and set up an appointment for Friday morning because our furnace was short cycling. My wife and I both really enjoyed working with him. He didn’t make us feel dumb or pressured or anything. He charged us an appropriate rate for his time while also recommending we fix some easy things ourselves because it would be cheaper. And look at the shiny new programmable thermostat!

(Sidenote: For those who may be wondering, that top pic is Rach and I at Halloween one year. I was a Strawberry and she was Shortcake. Whether you find that CUTE or DIRTY says more about you than it does about us. But we respect you either way.)

(We just respect you more if your inclination was to find it DIRTY.)

Professor Street? Really?

Think you're done with ME, Philadelphia? Just because my two terms as one of the three worst mayors in the US is up?

I haven't released my iron grip of ineptitude just yet...

No, I will taint and infect the minds of your children, and your children's children, with my ideas of entitlement and corruption...

I will continue to destroy this city from the top... especially once I become a tenured professor!

That's right, ladies and gents, the man who did nothing for 8 years except wait in line for an iPhone is going to be a professor of Urban Politics and Policy at Temple University.


For those of you who are Temple students or alumni, please raise the alarm and get this guy out of the halls of academia...


I guess for the rest of us, he's mostly gone, and Philadelphia can breathe one collective sigh of relief...

Tiling Blues

Now, as an Architect, I specify a lot of finishes for other people's buildings. And generally, I'm a fan of this simple rule: The harder the finish is to install/replace and the more it costs, the more neutral it should be. Neutral finishes just don't go out of style and are easier to patch and you can always enliven the color of the room with paint and other girly stuff like curtains or handtowels or whatever.
So that's why I'm really surprised at how much I dig this floor tile from Lowe's. I've seen it installed in two houses now with great effect both times. The color variation makes it very versatile with a lot of other colors and its frickin cheap at $4.66 for a 12x12 mesh piece of 3x3 tiles. Portobello Tiles, the manufacturer, doesn't seem to have this particular tile listed on their website, but it looks to be part of their Bahamas collection of Pool Tile. Maybe its a special product marketed at Lowe's or something. I wish they'd make this finish in other colors like white/gray.

Until they do, I'll still always be loyal to White Subway Tile in a Running Bond Pattern with a nice medium gray mortar.

(Warning: Building Material Geek Alert: Especially, if you go really CRAZY, and install the running bond VERTICALLY ORIENTED!!!)

But if you're into blue, this is a great product.

(Footnote: I always spec Medium gray mortar. If your tile doesn't look good with Medium Gray, you need a new tile. It sets off the pattern of the tile and hides stains and mildew well, which is important, if like me, you'd prefer to clean your bathroom thoroughly, but once a year.)

Bleep, Zingneek, Weil M. Furnace

And now, another episode of "Conversations with Our House"

Bleep zip cough, sniffle, wheeeeze.

What’s that Weil M. Furnace? Are you okay?

Neep! Zrong, sniffle, sniffle cough…

Oh, no! You’re sick, again?

Zip bing ding weel neep i keel short cycling.

Short cycling? But we knew about that! The home inspector told us about that and the previous homeowner said she’d get you checked out by a qualified technician. And you seemed fine.

Bleep zip cough, sniffle, wheeeeze… sniffle, glik.

I know, I know. You can hardly get moving before you shut down. I’m that way when I’m sick too. I get fired up for all of 30 seconds and then I have to sit out for three mintues before I can go again. I totally know how you feel. I’m so sorry.

Glip, glip, glip. Meke Leke Hi, Meke… cough cough, wheeeeze.

But I don’t understand, I have a receipt for work completed here from Edward Hughes and Son. I’ll call them right now.

Weel... sniffle.

Well, I talked to them and they’re *@#$ers. They won’t even honor the work they did two months ago. They wanted to charge me $75 bucks to just come out and see that they didn’t fix you. Don’t worry, we’ll never let Edward Hughes and Son HVAC contracting ever touch you again. And I’ll make sure to tell everyone I know so that no one else’s trusty furnace is subjected to the humiliation of dealing with them again.

Zik, neep, gillygilly, i wiln. Riminil wirk zuke eep, il Durham?

Yeah, I know it could be worse. Sure, I remember the house we looked at on Durham. What about it?

Nip, nip, Riminil ORBLOKZ?

Yeah, that frickin dude Orblokz was freaky scary, like something out of Ridley Scott’s “Alien”…

[Fade to FLASHBACK]

“I AM ORBLOKZ, DESTROYER OF WORLDS.

I AM SPEAKING TO YOU IN YOUR PUNY EARTH LANGUAGE THAT YOU MAY KNOW FEAR!

MWAH, AH, AH, AH.

I WILL EAT YOUR CHILDREN AND BURN AWAY YOUR SANITY WITH MY SCARY-ASS APPENDAGES.”

[Fade Back to PRESENT]

Neep wiel zing zing, Speaker of the House. Wheeze…

No, you’re the best. Yeah, I’m totally glad I have you Weil M. Furnace. We’ll get you fixed up in no time. I promise.

Zeep.

Stink Bug Eradication Techniques

So last night, at a family event, my tiny little awesome cousin/nephew Ben discovered a Brown Marmorated Stink Bug (Halyomorpha halys) on the game he was playing with. He was not pleased. Neither is anyone else on the Eastern Seaboard...

Since being introduced from Asia almost 10 years ago, the slow moving Stink Bug population has exploded, especially this year when a mild winter prevented their yearly natural extermination. They meander their way into our homes, as many can attest. They lazily infested the air conditioning unit in the loft of my mother-in-law's home where my wife and I stayed while between houses this summer. They slowly crawl all over the exterior walls of my sister's house, twitching and feeling, twitching and feeling. Their dead accumulate in light fixtures, cereal bowls, and sock drawers.

Several papers have covered the infestation (here and here), and while various sites do insist that the bug is harmless to humans and has not even proven (yet) to be detrimental to crop growth, no one has suggested much of a means to get rid of these nuisance critters.

That's where I (and you) come in. After previous experimentation on this topic, I crushed the offending stink bug between my fingers last night to enlighten my family to the fact that the Brown Marmolated Stink Bug, in fact, doesn't really stink. It smells like Cilantro. After a rousing game of "Smell My Finger", I had about half of the audience convinced. To the other half, I submit the following evidence. A whopping 6% of registered users on Ihatecilantro.com cite Stink Bugs as the flavor/smell that most closely resembles Cilantro.

Okay, okay, not very overwhelming. But if you look at the other articles linked throughout this posting, you'll see that I'm not alone. Lots of folks link the smell of stinkbugs and cilantro... not just the cilantro haters. (You've got to love devotion to a cause like that... Ihatecilantro.com? Come ON!)

The biggest problem with this invasive species is a lack of natural predators. Many birds, amphibians, etc either don't like the cilantro-esqe taste, or haven't discovered that these stink bugs are edible yet.

Now whether you believe in Global Warming or not, one has to admit that a natural predator would be a preferable method of population control to saturating our every living surface, interior and exterior, with your fave Insecticide. (What's yours? Mine is YardGuard, because it can be easily said with a Pirate inflection: "Avast, gimme the Yaaaarrd-Guaaaarrd, ye landlubbing bunghole!")

So, in the interest of Environmental Activism, why not introduce ourselves as natural predators for the Brown Stink Bug? Only 2000 or so fanatics really don't like Cilantro, so I think the rest of us can make a big dent in the population. Various regions of Mexico already eat other species of Stink Bugs Tacos. (Seriously.) And I found this delightful recipe for Stink Bug Pate online.

And so, dear readers, I urge you to experiment and then submit your favorite Stink Bug Recipes. Yes, especially you, Carolyn. Not only because this post is in your honor, (for being the only unwilling participant in the "Smell My Finger" game.) But because you're the only member of the family who has a formal culinary education. If any body can swallow their cultural stereotypes and down experimental Stink Bug recipe after experimental Stink Bug recipe, its you...

Cheers!

Re-post: Umbrella Rants

Well, its another rainy day in Philly. And of course on my walk to work, I was poked repeatedly by the Umbrella Bearing Hoards. Seems like a good time for another Re-post from ye ol' myspace page...

One can never rant on the same topic/soapbox too much!

Monday, September 13, 2004

A quote from a writer I enjoy: "My shoulders and pants are soaked. I’m wrestling against every torque in the wind. If this umbrella turns inside out again, it’s toast. I can’t see where I’m going. In fact, under the black nylon I fell like Charlie Brown, shadowed by a private cloud. A magic circle of dryness wreathes my face. This is my only comfort. Then the wind blusters and a baby tsunami splatters my cheeks. Execrable, flapping, nylon! Peering through the spitting air, dodging all the maniacs and dawdlers, Sartre pops into my head: “L’enfer c’est les autres.” Hell is other people, especially when it rains. Eye-poking; bobbing and weaving; lifting umbrellas to avert jousting: Where does all this anti-etiquette come from? I am so sick of how crappy umbrellas are." From "Never Say Dry", by Jude Stewart, I.D. Magazine, June 2004

Friday, March 16, 2007

Umbrella Day! On a day such as this, check out ID magazine and Treehugger's winner for the "Inside Out" design a new umbrella competition: The CRAYELLA. Not only is it environmentally conscious in a reasonable laissez faire means (Therefore NOT governmentally mandated which will never work.), it also alleviates some of the inherent moral problems of the traditional umbrella. It promotes spatial awareness, small business, sustainability, fashion, and good design. I had to bring an umbrella to work today. I hate umbrellas. Short people with umbrellas poke out the eyes of tall people. People who aren't concious of the area that their umbrella occupies shove others into the street and/or get them soaking wet. Umbrellas limit visibility of pedestrians and make the sidewalk a warzone. They really only keep your head dry which is what we have hats for. They break all the time. If you're a big person in need of a big umbrella, they're too large and heavy, even folded, to carry with you all the time, so you are often stuck without when when you need it. Its about time we designed a new umbrella. Kudos to Crayella.

Second Chance

They are about to open a Second Chance Inc. here in Philly. They salvage architectural elements from buildings to be demolished for resale. Salivating...?

WELL, WHY THE HECK NOT!?!

Check out these pics...































Second Chance Inc.
http://www.secondchanceinc.org/default.aspx?kw=aboutus


I'm a modernist, and I'm still siked. Not even to buy, but just cause walking around a place like that would be way cool. It'd be like going to a museum except you could play games with the historical artifacts, like Hopscotch and Dodgeball. But instead of jumping on squares made from chalk outlines, you could jump on antique vent registers. And instead of throwing balls at each other, you could throw antique limestone corbels and brackets. I can't wait to go with my nieces and nephews!

"Okay, everybody put your health insurance information in your back pocket so the EMT can get your info easily!"

Sigh. Daydreams.

But, in the meantime, I'll have to settle for these that are already in Philly:

ReStore
http://www.re-store-online.com/

Architectural Antiques
http://www.architecturalantiques.com/

What a Drip

The first “major” project always has an opportunity to be problematic. When you’re learning as you go, there’s bound to be a lot of unforeseen issues that pop up. I try to do a little research on the interweb. (We haven’t yet setup the modem or purchased a wireless router, so this posting has been brought to you by “Ray Secure” and “Linksys”. Big shoutout to the neighbors who are unknowingly providing us with internet service.)

So, the shower and I had DTR (Define the Relationship talk) after I over cranked the faucet knob on our first morning in the new house. I’ve gone to counseling for my abusive tendencies and I’m trying to repair the damages. It looks like a leaky showerhead from a bad compression valve in the hot water faucet. I can handle this.

Saturday morning, I turned off the water and took apart all four faucets to get a better look at their respective parts. I’m not sure what I have to replace, but I head to the Home Despot with all the parts in the front pocket of my hoodie, jangling around in there making an unnecessary racket.

The dude at Home Despot who I find in the plumbing aisle says,

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah, sure, that’d be great. I need to talk over the parts I need to fix this compression valve. It might take a minute, cause I’ve never done any plumbing before.”

“Well, I’m about to head out to lunch.”

“At 10 AM, really? Ok, well, then I won’t hold you up. Is there someone else who’s going to be able to give me a minute?”

“Nope. There’s nobody else.”

“So… you’re the only person who knows anything about plumbing and when you leave, there’s no one else on the floor?”

“Yep. So you better start talking cause I need a pizza steak.”

“Right, ok. Well, here’s the part I pulled out of the faucet, and I’m not sure what needs to be replaced, if anything.”

“We don’t have that part.”

“Well, I understand that this is an older faucet. So maybe I’d replace the whole assembly if the price is right.”

“We don’t have that part.”

“Okay, well, I also thought maybe I could try getting a valve seat prep tool to clean that up and it might help the problem.”

“Man, I don’t know what you’re talking about. We don’t have that part. I need a pizza steak. Later.”

This is why I hate the Home Despot. So, on a whim, I went to Glenside Hardware. The awesome dude there answers all my questions and sends me home with some plumbers grease, new valve-washers, and new faucet handles. Local Hardware Store: 1, The Home Despot: 0.
So finally, at 1 PM I was ready to begin fixing the valves. I climbed into the bathtub. I cleaned out all the valve seats and disassembled each compression valve from top to bottom. Like most little pieces of machinery, they’re actually quite beautiful once you understand and really see them. So, I snapped a couple “artsy” shots shown here, then slathered them with plumber’s grease and reassembled the whole thing.

The new faucets went on and we turned on the water…

SUCCESS-BOIL-IN-A-BAG-RICE! There's No Drip!

And to top things off, we found a good use for the old faucet handles. They look very DIY/Quirk on our bathroom door as towel hooks. Two Hots and a Cold. (My wife really should hang her towel on the HOT label, but given that she’s always chilly, we decided it would make sense for her to be on COLD.)

Schmancy Dinner

Previously on the-house-rules, we had a LOT of people to help us move in... It was great, because several of the ladies* unpacked most of our kitchen into the cabinets and pantry. Plates here, cups there, pot holders under there, etc. And the best part about it is that it was all WRONG.

Now, this is no judgment on the aforementioned ladies*. They placed things according to their own logic structure and our snippets of input. And it most likely made a lot of sense for their collective kitchen consciousness. But each person has their own way of organizing things and this wasn't ours.

But having things put in the "wrong" way makes it easier to identify what the "right" way is. We spent evenings of this past week, after work, organizing the kitchen from one end of the galley to another. Somewhat of a mise-en-place as Escoffier would say. (I don't really know what that means, but I know its related to food prep and it sounds schmancy right?)

We start with cutlery/prep/wash at one end, move to cook/serve, and to wait/bar station progressively down one side of the kitchen. On the other side there's pantry/fridge/supplies and a special confection/pastry corner for my wife the baker. (I only do savory/stove top for the most part.)

Anways, we got this done just in time for our first dinner party with our friend Meredith on Friday night. Mostly, the dinner was pretty tame. Pasta with a bottle of sauce plus my spinach mushroom additions. But I'm very proud of my salad: Frisee greens with Walnuts, Apples, and Parmesan cheese tossed in a lemon mustard dressing. I owned that mother.

Also, we had a bottle of Merlot from Rex Goliath 40 lb Rooster, one of our favorite wines, recommended to us by my brother and his wife. They live in Wisconsin, so typically one would question their Midwestern taste, but it was a recent (and sad) move from the east coast, so you can trust them... Implicitly. Unless we're talking about gun control, in which case don't put stock in anything they say. (Get it! Stock?!?)




*Footnote: Ladies is not a pejorative term. The setting up of the kitchen simply happened to be done by a group of women. Don't accuse me of sexism. I mean, if a dude who gets all hot and bothered by a frisee salad can't simply state the facts without his readers getting all feminist activist on his ass, what hope does the world have?

Shower Me with Debt

As a general rule, I find Lowe's to be preferable to The Home Despot, but a homeowner's gotta go where the faucets are. And in this case, because we were given some very generous gift cards and because the closest Lowe's is WAY on the other side of the city, I'll head up to the big orange box on Saturday with my old faucet handles and see if I can't find a suitable replacement.

I'm thoroughly hoping they are a compression type faucets, because, if not, I'm going to have to call a plumber named Stonehouse, methinks. (Best name ever for a Home Remodeling Contractor. Plus, he's my cousin so if he could free up time in his schedule, I'd actually enjoy paying him.)

But anyways, this is the closest match that I can find online to our current plumbing fixtures...

If however, the best I can do is the $300 price tag advertised by The Home Despot, we just won't be showering until after Christmas. Consider yourself warned.

Over 12 downtown?

Doing a little Philadelphia Zoning Code research this morning at work and stumbled upon this gem... Just a little "I TOLD YOU SO" from me to all the haters out there. Yes, it is actually a law. You cannot ride your bike on the sidewalk. (Exception: unless you are under the age of 12 outside of a business district in Philadelphia.)

Now, I'm not sure that this particular law isn't a little overboard. Sometimes riding your bike on the sidewalk could be ok for the general public in my opinion. But not in the middle of Center City at Lunch or Rush Hour. And certainly not in such a way that allows YOU, the law-breaker, to yell at ME, the law-abider for getting in your way. Thusly the reason I've been annunciating "Sidewalk!" at you miscreants with an extra emphasis on the "WALK" as you invade my pedestrian territory.

You, the law-breakers, seem to have been unable to comprehend the subtle jab embedded in my admonition when you fly by and between myself and my wife at high speed with your messenger bag smacking people in the head for good measure as you go. I can understand that this may be difficult as your reckless disregard for the law has probably also caused you to land on your unhelmeted head several times after being thrown over your handlebars by an impact with a vehicle who was driving the correct way down a one way street. (Unlike you.) So, I have pasted the finer points of this particular law for you below. Hopefully this will clear everything up.

12-808 Riding on Sidewalks

(1) No person shall ride a bicycle upon a sidewalk within a business district, as such district is defined in The Vehicle Code.

(2) No person 12 years of age or more shall ride a bicycle upon any sidewalk in any district.

(3) Whenever any person is riding a bicycle upon a sidewalk, such person shall yield the right-of-way to any pedestrian and shall give audible signal before overtaking and passing such pedestrian.

(4) In areas under the jurisdiction of the Fairmount Park Commission, riding bicycles on sidewalks and foot paths may be permitted when authorized by regulations of the commission. 10

(5) Notwithstanding the provisions of Section 12-811 of this Chapter, the penalty for violation of this Section shall be a fine of $10, together with the costs of prosecution. ¹¹

(6) An individual employed under delivery person status, whether in food service or courier industries is not in any way exempted from the above restrictions. If qualifying for other "hipster" exemptions within the body of this code, you may apply for a liscence from the Philadelphia Traffic Code Enforcement Department that will allow you to ride your bicycle on posted blocks of the South Philadelphia District provided that you remain there for the rest of your life and don't bother the rest of us.

Repost: Two Party System

In light of another Election Day, fast approaching, I thought I'd unearth a political rant from the past. This is from ye ol' myspace page...

(It took my wife a little while to understand, but now she knows that if you pretend like you're interested, I'll be able to wrap it up quickly... )

Thursday, August 26, 2004

Two Party System We have these two concepts: A. My identity is in Christ and in his work for me. I AM not my responsibilities. I AM not the things I do for other people. I AM not my sin or my Spirit lead works. I must be grounded and aware of my identity as a brother and recipient of the inheritance freely promised to me: Righteousness, Life, and Relations. B. My responsibility is to Christ and the work he is doing in me. I DO have responsibilities. I DO have an imperitive to do things for other people. I DO have sin and DO have Spirit lead works. I must be grounded and aware of my responsibilities as a servant and soldier in the structure freely given to me: Righteousness, Life, and Relations. In our constant drive to outline, simplify, and turn the work of an Eternal, Infinite, All-powerful, and Mysterious God into a way of life, lesson plan, or conversation, we sway into one category or the other. We rebel against trying to understand both equally because it makes things HARDER. We have nations that only see one or the other. We have churches that only see one or the other. We have individuals (like myself) who are shortsighted and only see one or the other. Does this remind anyone else of a two party system? Coincidental? I think not. Our sinful nature drives us to take a complex and beautiful world and divide it into packages of conservative/liberal OR mystical/legalistic. Its easier to be right when you can say someone else is wrong. I'm getting sick of trying to be right. This is not a critique of any person or group of people (except maybe myself), but a realization of the way I think things really are. Sorry if its offensive to anybody. Can I get an amen? (Or at least a blog commentary?)

Don't bother working...

Man, no rest for the weary today. I'm blogging the F out of this page. Anywho...

Wallpaper sucks. Unless its this...



In which case, I just crapped myself from an overload of awesome. Here's the link...

Walnut Wallpaper
http://www.walnutwallpaper.com/

It's me, Your Shower...

And now a new segment... Conversations with Our House

Dear Speaker of the House.

I know we've only known eachother a short while, less than a week in fact, but I wanted to call something to your attention. When you moved in on Saturday, I was excited that I would be getting to spray you with hot water while you sang Al Green songs in the buff. I mean, really, who doesn't want a piece of that? I think we can safely say that we both waited for the next morning's sunrise with eager expectation. And I certainly wasn't dissapointed... even though your range is like three octaves lower than The Reverend, you brought the necessary funk. And while you are a skinny mother, I can see that at least you don't have back acne.

So, I was hurt, both emotionally and physically, when at the conclusion of our session, you twisted my knobs way too hard. Something inside me broke. And I've been weeping uncontrollably ever since.

I know that you were trying to avoid these kind of issues so soon after starting a new life here, but you brought in on yourself. This is your mistake to fix. Please, please go to homedepot this Saturday to buy me some new knobs. And while you're at it, I could use some silicone tape in places to. I don't want to be going down some Janet Jackson-esque path and expose my threads.

Sincerely,
Your Shower

Dear Shower,
Its not you, Its me. I've never been in a relationship like this one before. Please forgive me.
Sincerely,
The Speaker of the House

Campbells Tomato Soup et al

+ = AWESOME

The simplest things can be achieved by putting together pre-manufactured canned/boxed/packaged food with real ingredients. So simple, so delicious. I've never made homemade tomato soup, but I have a sinking suspicion this may be one of those times where the "corporate food machine" does it better than I can.

Sometimes aluminum or cardboard IS the best ingredient... especially mixed with chives.

Moving Day: Inconveniaphobia

Here's a complex I have. I'm ridiculously over-concerned about inconveniencing other people. You know, in one of those unhealthy [makes me sweat, swear, and swallow the ever increasing amounts of bile that I'm throwing up when I think about the delays I may be causing the general public] ways. I hate being the guy that everyone else is cursing silently or audibly.

I think it actually comes living with my my Dad and my late brother John. John had severe cerebral palsy and as a result couldn't walk or talk or do anything that most of us take for granted. The only muscles he could control were his neck and eyes. But he was a genius... literally. IQ of somewhere above 150. (The number seems to change a little bit every time Dad tells it, but sufficed to say, John was smart.)

So, imagine you have a child who's totally "there" upstairs, but can't take part in ANYTHING his siblings, peers, or even nieces and nephews do every moment, every day, every year. Dad did what any AMAZING parent would do and just plowed right through all civility and convention to make sure John got as many opportunities as possible. If this meant holding up a line so that John could cast a vote for himself, he did it. If it meant driving extremely slow so that John could take in all the sights of the city, he did it. You get the drift...

Disclosure: It should be noted that I think my Dad was particularly gifted with plowing through civility and convention. It may very well have been the reason God put him on earth. But we've no time for theological discussions right now.

Anyways, as a child and then teenager in this unique family situation, I grew to LOATHE the inconvenience that we were imposing on others. I was mortified about 95% of the time, not by John, but by Dad. I know, I know, what teenager isn't mortified by his parent? But from this specific phenomenon grew my "inconveniaphobia". I've even built a worldview around this concept, which has varying degrees of biblical accuracy during the day. Am I loving my neighbor by driving slowly? Am I doing it for their good or for my good? The ethical vertigo is getting to me...

So, imagine if you will, my feelings about moving:



Exhibit A: I rent a moving truck. A 25 foot long, 13 foot high moving truck. Which has to be driven slowly. And somewhat down the middle of the road as I am unfamiliar with its size and do not want to sideswipe every parked car. Also the sky is pouring buckets of rain, so visibility sucks.

Exhibit B: There's no where to park said moving truck on my new house block. And, let me clarify, not buckets, but we've escalated to bushels of rain, so every possession we're moving is going to be destroyed.

Exhibit C: I refuse to double park under almost any situation. Especially on this, my new house block. Double parking is the height of self-importance. "My time is more valuable than your time. Therefore, I claim the right to obstruct traffic with my vehicle so I can just make a quick stop. Which, we all know will actually take 30 minutes."

Exhibit D: The block is frequented by Septa's Route 18 bus, a behemoth of a vehicle herself, piloted by less than reliable automotons known as Septa employees. So pulling "a little" off the road is not an option.

Exhibit E: The only viable option is to pull onto the grassy median strip of this boulevard block, thereby shredding up the pretty green grass that all my new neighbors front on. See above notes about rain which I now amend to a desription of buttloads of rain. Trash public property/viewshed...? Check.

Exhibit F: The aforementioned Dad is standing on the steps of my new house as I pull up, shouting instructions as to where I should park on the the grassy median strip. I mean, like directing me from 50 yards away as I drive a 25 foot diesel engine through the city. Also present are 2 to 3 other guys with different perspectives on the situation yelling different directions. ALSO PRESENT: A line of 3 to 4 cars and a bus behind me, waiting for me to MAKE UP MY F****ING MIND AND PARK!!!!

Which I did. Successfully. Thankfully. With God granting me the grace to only swear at my family, whom I love, like 6 times and mostly inaudibly. The biggest part of the ordeal was over.

After that, moving was a breeze. We had lots of people. My mom made sloppy joes. My wife survived the stress whirlwind. No one broke anything. We returned the truck on time. Everybody was awesome. We had beer and cigars. We're in! No more moving trucks for several years!

And my ulcer has mostly gone away.