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December 29, 2006: These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things ‘06 BOOKS One Of A Kind: The Rise and Fall of Stuey, ‘The Kid', Ungar, The World's Greatest Poker Player by Nolan Dalla and Peter Alson. The Complete Peanuts 1961-1962 (Fantagraphics) by Charles Schulz. Sweet and Low by Rich Cohen. Stars of David: Prominent Jews Talk About Being Jewish by Abigail Pogrebin DINING EXPERIENCE Mitchell’s Fish Market, Cincinnati, Ohio. DVDS Looney Tunes Golden Collection IV, Seinfeld seasons 1 through 6 (but not 7 because I’m still angry about Michael Richards), Sesame Street Old School, Donnie Darko (Director’s Cut), The Simpsons (season eight), and The Little Mermaid, Platinum edition (I’m including it because I’ve watched it more than the previous dvds combined). FANTASY BASEBALL Yahoo! It’s easy. It’s free. Sign up and abandon your team! JEANS Lee® brand. My torn pair of Gap jeans. I’ve worn them for over ten years and I can’t find a similar pair at the Gap anymore. MOVIES (THEATER) Borat. But I might as well list all the other films I saw because there weren’t that many and I also enjoyed the Ice Age sequel, Cars, Talledega Nights and The Pursuit of Happyness. I can definitely see myself purchasing Borat on dvd, though. MOVIES (NETFLIX) Crash, The Forty-Year Old Virgin, A History Of Violence, Mad Hot Ballroom, Syriana, Match Point, Ushpizin, and Akeelah and The Bee. PIZZA Papa John’s. Until this year, I was a Pizza Hut guy. Consider me converted. TELEVISION Lost, Criminal Intent (D’Onofrio episodes only, and when I have time), Grey’s Anatomy, and YouTube.com clips of whatever the zeitgeist is at the moment. TOYS Lego, Lincoln Logs, Play-Doh, and Fisher-Price Little People® sets. and, finally. . . . DONUT Krispy Kreme’s original glazed. There is no other.
December 27, 2006: My Gerald Ford Story I was a cub scout back in 1976. I had long, thick, brown locks that I wore under my cub scout cap. If you don’t believe me, I have the picture as proof. In that picture, I’m wearing my cub scout uniform and posing in front of a miniature liberty bell and an American flag. Every time I see that picture at my mother’s house, I experience substantial regret over the loss of texture and quantity of what was, in my humble opinion, some pretty frickin’ awesome hair.
David, another good pal of ours, lived down the street. Like Pat, he really wasn’t into the beer can collecting. Both David and Pat preferred listening to Kiss. David introduced me to Foreigner’s Hot Blooded and, later, the groovy guitar stylings of Aldo Nova. Whenever I think of David now, the first person I always remember is Aldo Nova. And, of course, the second person I think of is Gerald Ford. When I heard today that President Ford died, I remembered that day about thirty years ago when the den mothers, one of whom was Pat’s mom, herded our troop of cub scouts together for a visit to the Charleston Civic Center. President Ford was going to speak to all of the cub scouts in our area. They packed all of us into the auditorium, and then we waited for President Ford to arrive. And waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, President Ford arrived. He gave a speech about scouting, and after he finished, he left the stage--exiting by the far aisle that went into the audience. As he exited, he shook the hands of some of the cub scouts, including my friend David. David was really psyched that Ford shook his hand. He told me that he wouldn’t wash it. I wish I had a James Brown story to tell you. But I’m not cool like that.
December 23, 2006: Whew! Hanukkah’s ended. I’m exhausted. Absolutely. Positively. Ex. Haust. Ed. And now it’s time to celebrate Christmas with my wife’s family. Did I mention my sister’s also visiting in Charleston? Then there’re the gifts. Toys. Toys. More toys. On the floor. In the hall. Under the furniture. In the closets. Well, they’re always in the closets and on the floor. There just seem to be more of them in the hall and under the furniture than last week. My wife’s exhausted, too. I don’t know what I’d do without her. If I could gift wrap “A BIG BREAK FROM EVERYTHING” to her, I’d do it. If it weren’t for her amazing latkes, I’d be in a fetal position somewhere near the kitty litter and the standing water in our basement. So, thanks, honey. I love you very much. And thanks to my kids. And thanks to family. And thanks to my friends. Huntington has made our family feel welcome, and we’ve met some really nice folks. And, finally, thanks to all my blogger buddies. As far as I’m concerned, all of you deserve Wikipedia entries. After all, Time made us people of the year. And shouldn’t that merit inclusion for the ages--even if we still have to pay $4.95 for the magazine? Here’s hoping for a groovy 2007. Shalom out.
December 18, 2006: Hanukkah Blogging #1
December 16, 2006: Last Minute Holiday Gift Ideas For Tight 1. Re-gifts. The spare salad shooter in your kitchen cabinet, the pair of neon green mittens in your drawer, the New Kids on the Block CD you’ve been meaning to listen to since 1989 -- all of these items qualify as acceptable gifts if given to the proper recipient. 2. Books. Unfold those dog ears, erase any underlining or any notes you’ve made in the margins, and carefully scrape off any dried boogers (a coin or a fingernail works well). And don’t forget to peel off those pesky call numbers from the spines. 3. Personal mementos. Give a meaningful gift to that special someone: a lock of hair (from your head if possible, but other hair will work in a pinch), a jar of fingernails, or a tiny earwax sculpture. It will be a gift they’ll never forget. 4. A year’s supply of newspapers. 2006 editions, of course. This is a particularly good gift for history buffs and those with birds. 5. Food basket. Edibles are always a welcome gift when presented tastefully. Leftovers look great when covered with colored plastic wrap. Make sure to scrape off any mold or disguise any teethmarks. 6. Pets. Nothing says the holidays like a cuddly new friend, and nothing says frugal like driving around looking for a stray dog or cat to tie a red ribbon on. If you’re feeling really generous, spring for a bottle of flea shampoo. Remember, friends with allergies to dogs or cats don’t have to miss out on the fun. Exotic pets are all the rage. Consider snakes, spiders, and opossums.
December 13, 2006: Whatever It Is I Think I See (posted by donutbabe) While my darling Donutbuzz is otherwise occupied (Laundry? Yeah, right. Pardon me as I have a laughing fit. Okay, I’m done.), I thought I should take over the blog. Admit it: you LOVE it when I take over with my cutesy little font and talk about the children. You’ll have to forgive me. I just got home from Walmart, and I still have shopping head. I try not to go anywhere near that store during the holiday shopping season, but sometimes, when you’re pressed for time and need footies with tread, a box of Fiddle Faddle, a DVD, wood glue, and the biggest jug of orange juice in the world, there’s only one place to go. We go through orange juice at an alarming rate around here. I think Seth has hit a growth spurt. All he thinks about is edibles. When he takes a bath, he says, “This bath water is making me thirsty for orange juice.” The other night as we drove home and admired the Christmas lights, he said, “I love Christmas decorations! They make me hungry!” This morning I heard, “Christine? That sounds like saltine! Listening to a Hanukkah story, he proclaimed, “Maccabees sounds like macaroni and cheese!” And finally, this afternoon, he spoke of one of his preschool friends. “When T. stops crying, he smells like salami.” After the moment of speechlessness that always follows a declaration such as that one, I managed to formulate a thought. I didn’t think Seth had ever tasted salami. “Do you like that smell?” I asked. “I hold my nose.” Hm. I suspect on my next trip to Walmart, I’ll be buying more orange juice, macaroni and cheese, and some saltines. But no salami.
December 13, 2006: Time To Do Laundry I’ll be back in a few minutes.
December 11, 2006: Monday Morning Blues I try and stay positive about things. I do. But it’s hard to do when your child wakes up screaming--and continues to scream, possibly pitching his worst. fit. ever.--for an hour the first thing Monday morning. Why do I get the feeling that today is really going to sucketh most badeth?
December 9, 2006: Coach Rodriguez (Radio Edit Version) Sung to the tune of The Knack’s “My Sharona”: Ooohh, you won the Sugar Bowl, Sugar Bowl
December 6, 2006: December Dilemma Take One: Donutbabe the Gentile Fields Holiday Questions “Why can’t I have Christmas at this house?” Seth asked. That went well, don’t you think?
December 5, 2006: Remedial Holiday Recipe #17 With the holidays around the corner, everyone loves to eat! I always enjoy receiving homemade goodies from friends and co-workers, but this year I thought I’d return the favor and offer one of my favorite recipes. LOX TOAST Here’s what you’ll need: 1 package of smoked salmon 1 package of cream cheese 1 slice of bread 1 bowl 1 fork (cocktail fork for best results) 1 butter knife 1 yarmulke (optional) Lox Toast doesn’t require much time to prepare, and you can master making it in under twenty minutes. First, take the smoked salmon out of the refrigerator where I assume you’ve stored it. I recommend the “Private Selection” brand’s Wild Alaskan Sockeye Salmon, which I find mighty tasty, but you can substitute your preferred variety of salmon. Make sure that the salmon’s fresh, however, because spoiled salmon can really wreak havoc on your tummy and those who share the same dwelling with you. After you’ve retrieved your smoked salmon--or what we “members of the tribe” refer to as “lox”--place it in your bowl. Now you’re ready to shred. Pick up the salmon with your hands and tear it into as many small pieces as you can in two minutes. If you don’t like handling the lox with your fingers, substitute a cocktail or regular fork. Using a fork saves wear on your fingers and, more important, avoids leaving the salmon smell on you. You’ve now shredded the lox. Feel free to snack on any residue left around the bowl and/or on your fingers before adding the cream cheese, which you’ll add to the bowl containing the lox. I usually add about three heaping servings gathered on a butter knife. I have no idea how many ounces this is because I don’t measure it. If I’m in the mood for a more loxy “lox toast,” I don’t heap as much cream cheese on the lox. Tonight, I was in a cream cheese mood, so I heaped quite a bit of the Philadelphia into the bowl. With a little practice, you’ll figure out how much to add, but, initially, I advise that you heap less until you’re familiar with this recipe. After you’ve added the cream cheese to the bowl with lox, mix the ingredients together. You can use your fork and/or your fingers. If you’re spending time with your significant other and/or family, I recommend using the fork, especially if anyone else will be using the loaf of bread you’ll soon be touching. Take a slice of bread and place it in the toaster. Set the toaster on high. That’s right--lox toast tastes best when you burn the toast. If you don’t like burned toast, of course, maybe this recipe isn’t for you. But if you love lox as much as I do, burning the toast makes for an interesting, tasty combo. After your toast is ready, spread the lox and cream cheese onto it. Serve with some egg nog and you’re havin’ a real happy holiday no matter what you celebrate.
December 3, 2006: Hanukkah Haiku Something dawned on me-- Am I the sole Jew who blogs in West Virginia?
December 2, 2006: West Virginia, A Match Made In Heaven I have this crazy dream. In this dream, I’m home from school standing in the den of our old house in Fort Hill. It’s the house where my sister learned to walk, and where I once kicked a shoe off my foot so hard that it launched my right sneaker into the air causing it to hit the ceiling and leave a shoe print that never vanished during the remaining seven years we lived in that home. I have my Slim Jims, a bottle of Yoo-Hoo and several packs of baseball cards, and I’m sorting my baseball cards by names into different piles. And Match Game ‘75 is on the television. Gene Rayburn’s calling the audience a bunch of cuckoos. Brett Somers and Charles Nelson Reilly and Richard Dawson and Betty White and Fannie Flagg are all there, too. But in this dream, something’s different. Something’s not right. . . . But this dream is so real. It’s so real that I don’t want to awake. So in my dream I tell myself to keep sleeping, and I try to achieve a heavy slumber effect, and it seems to be working because now Gene’s asking the next question: “Governor Joe Manchin said: ‘I’m really getting worried about the electrical work on my newly-renovated mansion.’” The audience replies: “How worried is he?” “I’ll tell ya,” Gene intones, “How worried he is. When he tries to watch his 50-inch, high- definition, plasma television set, the picture appears in his _______.” Then I hear the wah-wah guitar music. But now I’m not in my home. I’m sitting in a contestant’s chair, and I need one more green triangle to win, and the only thing between me and the bonus round is Governor Joe Manchin. “Ok, kiddo,” Gene says to me. “Governor Joe Manchin’s really getting worried about the electrical work on his newly-renovated mansion. When he tries to watch his 50-inch, high- definition, plasma television set, the picture appears in his _____.” Resisting the urge to go with “toilet,” I answer, “How about hot tub, Gene?” Gene smiles. “Hot tub. . . hmm. . . that’s one possibility,” he remarks. He turns to Joe and repeats the question a third time.
Then I wake up and remember the water in our basement, the mildew in our bathroom, and the cat barf on our stairs.
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Each week, all of us cub scouts gathered at Pat’s house where we fashioned crafts from popsicle sticks and glue. Pat and I were pretty good friends, and his brother collected beer cans. I remember telling his brother that I had started a collection, and he gave me his entire collection consisting of over a hundred cans, including the rare Miller Malt Liquor can. I don’t think Pat’s brother bothered to tell Pat, though, because when Pat saw my new collection of cans stacked in my bedroom and inquired as to how I had so quickly developed this collection, I told him about his brother giving me the cans, and I remember the immediate disappointment that registered on Pat’s face, which in high school would bear an uncanny resemblance to Geddy Lee of Rush.
“Looks like help is on the way!” Joe exclaims as he holds up his card.