the facebook phenomena

As a new initiate into the world of Facebook, I’m still learning its vernacular, subtleties and mechanics. My first impression is that Facebook is an oddly impersonal way of being personal. You post something out there on your wall for all of your friends to see (like a mass mailing, “Dear Occupant . . .”). THEN, they can respond with a comment at their leisure. While this is nice from a time shift perspective, it just rings a little “hollow” for me. At least e-mail is a direct exchange with one targeted friend. Perhaps this is indicative of my old age and my increasing inability to embrace the new. (I need to comment here that we have all lost the eloquence of the written word as evidenced by letters read in the Ken Burns documentary, “The Civil War.”) Give me some time though, I’m still grappling with the concept of social networking.

I do wish to take the opportunity here to personally thank Facebook for making me feel like a loser. It appears that most Facebook participants have hundreds, even thousands of friends. I have a grand total of nineteen friends and I don’t see that number increasing any time soon. Of the nineteen friends, one is my wife, another, my daughter, one is the teenager who mows my lawn (Hey, Taylor), and one is a total mistake. (Don’t worry, it’s none of you dear readers.) This only reinforces my impression of myself as a friendless hermit, lacking in social skills, unable to forge any deep emotional bonds. Yes, I could claim that my nineteen Facebook friends are CLOSE friends (Hey, Taylor), not gratuitous ones, but this is only true to a certain extent. Some of my “friends” are not responding to my “friend requests” or are not on Facebook. And did I mention that since joining Facebook, I HAVE managed to spook an old college girlfriend who must have thought I was stalking her (oh, yeah, come to think of it, make that EIGHTEEN friends)? I’m beginning to think Facebook is really an abbreviation for “In Your Face!” book . . .

cincinnati chili

As I've mentioned in a previous post, I love to cook. I have very few passions, but this is one of them. Actually, I think the correct thing to say is I love to EAT, and since a lot of the things I like to eat cannot be obtained on demand, I resort to cooking them myself. One such example can be found in my recent craving for Cincinnati Chili. This is a dish I became acquainted with during one of my numerous visits to that fair city (which was a major training center during my tenure at AT&T). One of the instructors of one of my first training sessions suggested that a visit to Cincinnati was not complete without sampling the local dish.

For the uninitiated, Cincinnati Chili is not like your traditional chili. It contains a mixture of spices and ingredients (cinnamon, allspice, chili powder, apple cider vinegar, brown sugar, tomato sauce, chicken broth and ground beef that is boiled in the sauce) that combines to form a mildly sweet, aromatic, mildly spicy chili. But the uniqueness does not end here. Cincinnati Chili is served in several possible variations: two-way, three-way, four-way or five way. Two-way is with the chili served over spaghetti noodles (this is the minimal way - it MUST be served with the spaghetti, otherwise it is not Cincinnati Chili). Three-way adds grated cheese on top. Four-way builds upon the mound with raw onions, and finally, Five-way adds kidney beans. It's really quite an odd dish and you can sample it in the food court of the Cincinnati Airport if you have time during a connection there (a Delta hub). The booth that serves it is directly across from the McDonald's. In reality, I found the dish to be a little off-putting, but thought the novelty of it to be quite charming.

Recently, Cooks Illustrated, my favorite source for recipes, featured their version of the regional dish. Whatever flaws I found with my samplings in Cincinnati have been masterfully addressed in the C.I. version. C.I. has refined the combination of ingredients to the point of perfection. The dish I once thought odd, but quaint, and not necessarily desirable has now become a frequent obsession of mine. Never mind that is has no redeeming nutritional benefits (well, I guess there IS protein), the important thing is that it makes me happy and warm inside, all the while delighting my taste buds! Last night, I made a batch after a self-imposed hiatus of three months without Cincinnati Chili. It was truly a culinary delight. I recommend it highly. I'm not sure what the ramifications would be of posting the recipe on the web, but if you're tempted to try it, shoot me an e-mail and I'd be happy to share it with you.

Cincinnati Chili. It is the "Sin" in "Cincinatti!"

personal violation

Well, I've just violated my own personal oath to ban current photos of myself from this blog until I had undergone some weight loss. This is a photo I just had to post. We are season ticket holders to the University of Utah's Women's Gymnastics Team meets. This last Saturday, for my work, I had to man a booth at the annual Avenues Street Fair. As it happens, the University of Utah's booth was situated just across the street. When the entire team showed up, I shyly asked Megan Marsden, the co-head coach of the team, if she would let me have my photo taken with her. At that point, Megan asked, "Why don't we just have a picture taken with you and the whole team?"

That's me in the center looking a little coy, but loving every minute . . .

dr. who

Have I mentioned that I have become a Dr. Who fanatic? PBS started broadcasting the newly revived Dr. Who series about three years ago, with Christopher Eccleston in the lead role, then transitioned into the tenth Doctor, David Tennant. Eccleston was a good intro into the new Doctor, but for my money, David Tennant is the perfect embodiment of the Time Lord. He is humorous in the face of danger, reveling in the adrenaline rush, yet lonely in his place in the universe and somewhat egomaniacal - in other words, the just-right, dashing hero figure for a tongue-in-cheek sci-fi series!

PBS is presently re-running the third season, but somehow I could not bring myself to wait for future installments (we're behind the BBC broadcasts by two years), so I purchased the remaining two-plus seasons (two seasons plus two extra episodes) from iTunes. Word has arrived that David Tennant is leaving the series to be replaced by a 25 year-old actor, Matt Smith, beginning in 2010. The producer, Russell T. Davies, will also be leaving the series. I attribute the brilliance (to coin a British phrase) of the show to Davies, so I have my doubts that the new Matt Smith series can live up to the whole David Tennant series run. I have to tell you however, that viewing all 5 seasons is a treat. The season (5) finale was one of the most climactic, emotionally pitched TV shows I have seen here to date. It was a two-parter that incorporated many of the elements from the five-year run, not to mention ongoing story lines from the original Dr. Who series dating back to 1963!

I even broke down about a year ago and ordered my toy replica of Dr. Who's sonic screwdriver, which I will occasionally bring out and wield while watching some of the episodes. There's also a USB hub shaped like the Tardis, the Doctor's time/space machine that I will undoubtedly be ordering soon . . .

If you enjoy a fun show with plenty of colorful characters and surprising emotional resonance, I highly recommend you purchase the series. Some shows are not as stellar as others, but there are enough gems to make it well worth the price of entry. Even the incidental episodes contribute to the character development and overall myth of Dr. Who.

love, kung fu and the New York Times

I'm a romantic. I hate myself for it. Romantics, like optimists, are very susceptible to disappointment. We hope for the happy endings and root for the triumph of good over evil. It's really quite pathetic, yet I cannot seem to help myself. Originally I attributed it to my age as I read somewhere that men became more emotional in their advancing years, but in retrospect, I've always been a romantic. I blame the media. Movies, books, television, music, all shamelessly promote love in unrealistic ways even when they are lamenting its loss and subsequent pain. And I have been there every step of the way, taking it all in.

When Joni suggests we attend a romantic comedy for one of our movies of the week, I protest somewhat mildly, but am secretly reveling in the prospect of screening yet another variation of the boy meets girl (or these days it COULD be a boy meets boy or girl meets girl) storyline. Oddly, I also still revel in typical "guy" movie fare like a good old action movie with plenty of fight scenes. So when you present me with something like "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" or "The House of Flying Daggers," well, as you can imagine, I am in movie heaven. I cannot fathom a higher art form than a love story within a Kung Fu movie.

I always begrudgingly watch these love stories unfold, but unfailingly succumb to the swelling orchestration in the background and emotion-packed climax as the two lovers finally proclaim their love for one another. (In college, I always waited for that music to commence whenever I was with my girl friends, but it never came . . . ). I recognize intellectually that the love on that screen is just as fabricated as the exploding car tumbling end over end in an action sequence, but somehow I still find myself BELIEVING in that moment. Well, if not believing in that moment, WANTING to believe in that moment. I suppose this is the true revelation of my older age: knowing the difference in believing and wanting to believe.

I have gained enough wisdom over the years to realize that love in real life is something that requires more effort and tolerance and forgiveness than anything portrayed in the movies. I have come to recognize that it is because of this that real love is more rewarding when its challenges are met and overcome. And like the ebb and flow of the ocean, it has its own rhythm.

Still, it's fun to engage in entertainment that dwells upon the conceit of love. Now that I have my iPod, I subscribe to the free daily feed provided by the NY Times. If you are like me and enjoy a good love story, I highly recommend a weekly visit to its illustrious wedding section. Contained therein are many modern day fairy tales written especially for us romantics. And just like in the movies, these stories always end with a happily ever after . . .

a few facts about lobsters

At the end of our trip to Maine, we visited the Oceanarium, a lobster hatchery, to learn more about lobsters. I felt it was only fitting since I had so voraciously feasted upon them each day during that time. Here are a few of the more interesting facts:

True lobsters have two very powerful claws. One claw is sharp and used for cutting, the other is bony and used for crushing. Lobsters that have their heavy ("crusher") claw on the right are considered "right-handed" and the others are "left-handed". Some lobsters are ambidextrous, they usually favor the claw that is the largest. True lobsters have two very powerful claws. One claw is sharp and used for cutting, the other is bony and used for crushing. Lobsters that have their heavy ("crusher") claw on the right are considered "right-handed" and the others are "left-handed". Some lobsters are ambidextrous, they usually favor the claw that is the largest.

Rubber bands are placed around the lobsters' claws for the protection of other lobsters, not necessarily its handlers.

According to the Oceanarium, a local university did a comprehensive study of the nervous system of lobsters and concluded that it was not developed enough to allow them to feel pain. This was very comforting and I CHOOSE to believe this, even though I have read contrary reports on other websites. I do not remember which university was cited, but after all, it is an institution of higher learning that did the research . . .

Another source on the web (this time from the Five Islands Lobster Company reads), "For those of you who are concerned about cooking screaming lobsters, here are the facts. The nervous system of a lobster is decentralized and has been compared to that of a grasshopper. From what we know, this means they probably feel little or no pain. They also have no vocal chords. The sound you may hear is actually steam escaping from the shell as the lobster cooks. If you're still concerned about hurting the lobster, begin to cook it in cold water instead of hot. As the temperature rises, it will put the lobster to sleep. So will laying it on its back for a few minutes."

Female lobsters can store the male's sperm for up to two years and individually fertilize each egg (ranging anywhere from approximately 8,000 to 100,000 depending upon their age and size).

Somewhere between 80% an 90% of the lobster produced in the U.S. originates from Maine.

The lobster population in Maine is experiencing healthy growth, which means we don't have to feel guilty for enjoying its flavorful deliciousness.

I close here with the oft heard statement, "You are what you eat."