12.31.2007

It's New Year's Eve!

Hello internet friends! Long time no see! Sorry to have been incommunicado over the holidays, but that's what you get when your gracious hostess is subjected to the torture of a dial-up connection for a week. I get impatient, so no posts for you.

Anyway, I'll have a holiday wrap-up for you shortly, but in the meantime, check this out -- two of my good friends from college recently started a company called the Geek Bouteek that sells tshirts for geeks, gamers, and nerds (their words, not mine). Their designs are really cute, although I admit that I don't get about half the references. So if you have any belated Christmas presents to take care of, now you have no excuse!

See you in 2008!

12.20.2007

Restaurantus magnificus

What is it with Thomas Keller and the Latin? There's Ad Hoc and, of course, Per Se. Can we expect De Minimis and Res Ipsa Loquitur next?

12.17.2007

The latest from Jersey

Apparently, the Union County corrections system can be duped by two guys with a couple of posters and some time to kill. Seriously, hasn't anyone in Union County ever seen The Shawshank Redemption?

12.16.2007

Whole hog, baby, whole hog

So we recently went in on a pig with a few friends. Which is exactly what it sounds like -- with our friends, we bought a whole pig that grew up here until it was time for it to meet its maker. The lovely people at the farm took care of all the dirty work, and a few weeks ago we took delivery of a third of a pig, which amounts to a couple dozen pork chops, a ginormous pork belly, a ham, a half-dozen shoulder roasts, some ribs, and a few pounds of ground pork, which should satisfy all of our porcine needs for a least the next few months.

After clearing out a bunch of room in our freezer, tonight we had our first taste of our piggy, and, I must say, it was delicious. We had a couple of chops, which we brined a la Alton, then seared in a cast-iron grill pan, and finished in the oven with nothing more than a little olive oil, salt, and pepper. We had a roasted beet salad with walnuts and goat cheese on the side, which was a perfect accompaniment.

12.14.2007

The things you learn

M: Hey, when you're out today, would you mind picking up a few strings of Christmas lights for the back deck?

J: No problem. Do you want the white ones or the colored ones?

M: I don't care, just don't mix them. Either all white or all colored.

J: ... You know, I didn't realize when we got married what a lightist you are.

12.13.2007

R.A.N.T. about "The Bride"

It occurred to me that there are all these little things out there in the world that drive me just batty. And since I have this here forum for sharing, I'm going to institute an occasional series called "R.A.N.T," which we'll say stands for, I don't know, "Ridiculous And Not Tolerable?" Or "Ranting About Nothing Terrific?" Whatever.

So, for our initial R.A.N.T., here's why the term "The Bride" drives me crazy:

I can't stand it when people call me (or other recently married women) "the bride" months after the wedding, as in, "How's the bride?" or "Here's the bride!" I was never particularly comfortable with the whole "bride" terminology in the first place, even when I was wearing the dress and everything and truly fit the definition. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't the marrying bit that I had a problem with, but just the term "bride" and all of the meanings that society and its evil henchman, the wedding-industrial complex, insists on forcing onto any woman making her way down the well-trod path to marital partnership. Not to mention the inordinate focus that "the bride" puts on that one day, as if getting married is a the defining feature or event in one's life. I mean, I don't particularly recall people saying "Here's the graduate!" months after I graduated from law school, so why am I still the "bride" six months out from the wedding? So I beg of you, call me a woman, call me a person, call me a happy newlywed or a wife, but please, do not call me a bride!

Thank you.

12.11.2007

Family ties

When we were in Vietnam this summer sipping beer and waiting out a rain storm in a Hanoi bar, we struck up a conversation with two American families sitting nearby. They were all from North Carolina, and had just (as in, the day before) adopted children. One family already had two daughters adopted from China, and had just adopted a son. The other family had just adopted their first child, also a boy. I'm not sure I've ever seen four such happy people. They radiated sheer joy and generously shared their excitement with us. It was infectious.

As we sat there, it struck me that the day before must have been as profound a moment for these families as the moment that a baby is born -- at that moment, their family had been created (or enlarged). And here we were, not one day later, sharing in that excitement. Their memories of that trip are probably an overwhelming haze and they probably don't remember us, but I was touched to be present at such a formative moment in their lives. It gets me, even now, to think about it.

Since then, I've been struck by how many other families we've met (or "met") whose lives have been touched by adoption or who are contemplating adoption. I'm not sure if I'm just more attuned to it, or if it's more a part of the public consciousness these days. And then of course, always with their finger on the pulse, the Times started running a series-slash-blog about adoption called Relative Choices, which I have followed eagerly. They've covered the adoption issue -- and the sometimes-related issues of class, race, ethnicity, authenticity, and language -- thoroughly and thoughtfully, and from many different perspectives. Two of the posts I've most enjoyed include this one about a family who adopted from China and their search for some connection to their daughter's background and this one about a woman who was reunited with her biological daughter and granddaughter decades after putting her daughter up for adoption.

(Even though I swore up and down I was going to stop linking to the Times all the time, I can't help it. It's just good stuff!)

12.06.2007

How's that for dialogue?

Oh my goodness. So I listened to Mitt Romney's speech on "Faith in America," which really should have been called "Why the fact that I'm a Mormon shouldn't matter, but God help us if we get an atheist in the White House." And oh, do I ever wish I had liveblogged it. There was just. SO. MUCH.

First, you have Mitt's covers of other religions' greatest hits:

In every faith I have come to know, there are features I wish were in my own: I love the profound ceremony of the Catholic Mass, the approachability of God in the prayers of the Evangelicals, the tenderness of spirit among the Pentecostals, the confident independence of the Lutherans, the ancient traditions of the Jews, unchanged through the ages, and the commitment to frequent prayer of the Muslims.

Seriously, Mitt, was it so much of a stretch to come up with something nice to say about Islam that the best you could do was commitment to frequent prayer? And I notice that the only religions that even got a mention were the monotheistic ones in the Judeo-Christian tradition. Come to think of it, this was basically the only mention of any non-Christian religions in this whole grand paean to religious tolerance. Where are the pagans, Hindus, Unitarians, Buddhists, and (gasp!) atheists? Not here, for sure. Religious tolerance, my ass. Christian religious tolerance is more like it. (I'm not even going to get into the whole are-Mormons-Christian thing. In my book, if someone says "I believe that Jesus Christ is the son of God and the savior of mankind," then they're Christian.)

And then there was this:

Almost 50 years ago another candidate from Massachusetts explained that he was an American running for president, not a Catholic running for president. Like him, I am an American running for president. I do not define my candidacy by my religion. A person should not be elected because of his faith nor should he be rejected because of his faith.

Of course you would compare yourself to JFK. But here's the difference: that speech was all about the separation of church and state, and how there should be no religion test to hold public office. But you took a totally different (and, to me, totally abhorrent) tack -- railing against the "religion of secularism" and advocating for the role of religion in public life. So essentially, there shouldn't be a religion test for public office, so long as you're religious. Um, thanks but no thanks.

But anyway, after the speech I went poking around the Salt Lake City Tribune's website to get a sense of the Mormon response to the speech. But forget the Mormon response -- the most interesting thing I found was the way the Tribune handles comments on its articles. When you comment on an article, your comment appears among all the other comments on that article. Which of course is normal. But then, anyone else on the site can give your comment a "thumbs up" or a "thumbs down" which results in a net "score," as in +3 or +10 or -16, based on others' ratings of your comment. And needless to say, comments that advocate liberal points of view tend to score WAY LOW. But here's the worst part: IF YOU SCORE BELOW A -6, THE TRIBUNE HIDES YOUR COMMENT from the general comment chain, and people can only read it if they click on it. Um, censor much?

Now, I understand moderating comments to remove vulgar or obscene content, content that is completely off-topic, or content that constitutes a personal attack. I do that on this site. But this is something entirely different -- it's essentially community-driven viewpoint censorship. And worse, here is a newspaper, whose job (ostensibly) is to provide a neutral forum for civil discourse, giving the community the means to decide whether a particular viewpoint has value and removing that viewpoint from the discourse if a (slight) majority doesn't like it. Now if that's not tyranny, I don't know what is.

Writing checks his body can't cash

J: Some no-name defensive back for the Steelers just guaranteed a win against the Patriots on Sunday.

M: ... Well, THAT was stupid.

12.05.2007

Oh, the relaxation

Last night, I came home from work a little frazzled and full of agita to a glass of champagne, a cheese plate, candles, and a bubble bath in our old claw-foot tub. I think J-P was inspired by our friends' recent revelation, in a major TMI moment, that they take a bath together every week to keep the flame of the sexy-time alive in their relationship. (OK, maybe that's not how they put it, but I'm the one writing here, so shush.) Anyway, as far as relaxation goes, it sure beat any prescription drugs I could possibly abuse. Agita, begone!

Also, today is J-P's birthday. Happy birthday, J-P! You can draw me a bath and open a bottle of champagne ANY OLD TIME YOU WANT!

12.04.2007

Rule of thumb: Vodka shots make for a great wedding


If for some reason you have the impression that this is a picture of me pouring my ninety-year-old grandma a shot of Stoli Vanilla through the ice luge at my cousin's wedding last weekend, I just want you to know that you're totally wrong.

She's only eighty-nine.