In the news today the possibility that President Obama may reverse his predecessor's ban on stem cell research. I considered writing a piece on the science behind stem cell research and the possibilities that would open up if and when the ban is removed. But another story caught my eye, that Geron, a biotech company in the US, has been given approval by the FDA to proceed with a clinical trial treating paralyzed patients with stem cells. What really stood out for me was that the proposal document was approximately 21,000 pages long. The BBC reports that this is the largest application on record.
Herein lies a challenge for scientific progress, as the boundaries of research stretch into ever more complex territory. I would contend that most of the controversies science is facing, in the fields of stem cell research, climate change, evolutionary biology and other, emerge because the topics are so complex that most contributors to the debate are barely able to scratch the surface of understanding. I could have written a short piece about the possible benefits of extensive stem cell research, but in order to summarize such a complicated subject, the facts necessarily become watered down.
Clearly scientific progress in the modern era relies on public support, which in turn requires that the public have some understanding of what they are supporting. But is this feasible? Obviously good communication between the science lab is key. When, though, is someone completing the arduous education required to practice stem cell biology expected to find the time to also become a master communicator?
Ultimately, with such a large public body to communicate to, memes become a vital tool. A meme is a package on knowledge in the same way that a gene is a package of genetic information. Memes are replicated when one person tells another, and like genes, they are subject to 'natural selection'. Successful memes become an ubiquitous part of our culture. For example, everyone knows that Neil Armstrong said "One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind" as he set foot on the moon. This meme is successful because of the inspirational nature of the message, because the words are cleverly arranged, but simple and because of the way it has been communicated: that video clip of the man in a space suit, complete with the beeps and whistles of the comm system.
Memes, like genes, are also prone to random mutations. People make mistakes when they re-tell the story, or deliberately change the facts to make the story more appealing. The success of a meme has nothing to do with how true it is, only how well it is spread throughout a group of people, and eventually the entire population of a country of the world. Think of the show Mythbusters, who every week deal with successful memes that often turn out to have no basis in fact. Richard Dawkins, who coined the phrase 'meme', contends that religion is the most successful meme of all human history, and in his opinion, is completely false.
Back to stem cell research, how can the researchers control the stem cell memes that proliferate? Is there some way to selectively breed a meme that is not only robust and successful, but also true!? Unfortunately, sound scientific knowledge isn't easily transfected into a popular meme. Scientific fact is not usually catchy, universally inspirational or expressed accurately in a poetic form. We shall have to see how the population of memes changes now that the POTUS looks set to throw his support behind this valuable and interesting line of research.
Monday, February 02, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Feeling chipper
This past Thursday I got home from work and was browsing Craigslist. As usual, there were no interesting motorcycles or guitars for sale. I meandered into the farm and garden section, as its always interesting to see what animals are available to buy. There are often goats and chickens, horses of course, but rarely sheep. It disappoints me that there aren't more sheep, really. Anyway, I was scrolling down the page and there it was. My chipper. I have been looking for a decent chipper for ages to clear the ever growing pile of dead wood accumulating behind my compost station. That pile recently put on a big spurt, as a result of me chopping all the dead and dying limbs from our three gigantic Crepe Myrtles out front. In fact, I pruned (in some cases razed to the ground) several shrubs around the yard a few weeks ago. So I needed a chipper, but all I had seen before were chipper/shredder/leaf vacs that only took very skinny limbs, or these monstrous chippers that will devour entire trees and need to be towed behind a lorry. This little guy was perfect for my needs. A 5hp engine, 2" diameter capacity. And he looked to be in good condition.
The key with Craigslist is to act fast. When I bought my punchbag no fewer than three interested parties called while I was there collecting it. I wasted no time picking up the phone to find out if my quarry was still available. Yes, it was, and yes, I could come right round to take a look! The gentleman owner had just used it a few times clearing some brush at the back of his yard, and it had been sitting a while since then. This, of course, meant that it would start, but he assured me it ran well and it was too good an opportunity to pass up. The deal made, I loaded it into my truck and headed for home, trying not to speed despite my excitement.
On Saturday I took to task getting my boy running. Earlier attempts on previous evenings suggested that the gas was bad, the carb was gummed up and the throttle/choke didn't seem to be operating too well. I drained the carb and sprayed a ton of carb cleaner in. I replaced the air filter, but the spark plug looked in good condition. Still the engine wouldn't quite get up to speed. I poured out most of the old gas, and diluted down the rest with freshly pumped fuel. A bit better this time, but still just barely turning over. I was just about to concede that I just don't know enough about small engine maintenance when I decided to take a screwdriver to a sprung screw on top of the carb. The spring levered against the throttle link and the engine soared to life! If I'd thought of that earlier I could probably have saved myself an hour or so soaked in gasoline, but no matter: Now we were in business.
Chipping is fun. I love to chip, especially the really fat chunks of wood that almost kill the engine as they get eaten and subsequently spit out in neat chips. The cool thing about my chipper is you can feed the big limbs into one chute, and the smaller twigs, brush, leaves and anything else soft into another chute on the other side for shredding. I basically spent all day out in the yard feeding whatever I could find into the hungry jaws of the chipping dragon. I jammed it twice. The first time was with a short length of Crepe Myrtle branch. It wasn't very thick, but that stuff is hard, and it got wedged between the impelled and the housing. Taking the chute off isn't really a one man job, but where there's a will there's a way. Soon I was back making mulch, this time being more careful about chipping even the smaller branches. It wasn't long before I got over ambitious again and this time jammed the chipper. That was an easier fix, though, as the chipping chute is small and attached with fewer fasteners.
Saturday was a gorgeous day, and by the end of it I had about ten big buckets of mulch that I spread on my front beds. I was also completely covered in sawdust.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Part 4 - "London, Baby!"
When the Friend's crew went to London back in 1998 they were too early for the London Eye. That's too bad from them, because it is easily one of the best things to do in a city that has a lot to offer. We made it our first stop after arriving at Waterloo station. The ride takes about half an hour, and by sheer luck the sun came out for that exact period, giving us a stunning view of the city. Despite the low clouds, we were still clearly able to make out the arch of Wembley Stadium. But the real treats are much closer by: Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament are right across the river. Buckingham Palace peeks from behind the trees at the end of St James' Park. Every time you turn around a new attraction has appeared as the wheel continues it's steady process. Since we only had a day in London, it was a great way to see as many sights as possible in a short space of time.
The sun stayed out long enough for us to walk across Westminster Bridge and get a closer look at the attractions around Parliament Square. By the time we had made our way into St James' Park, the heavy gray clouds had returned, and after our brief stop at Buckingham Palace, we walked back through the park in a snow shower. For Kristal a big highlight was the collection of rare wild fowl in the pond. They didn't seem to mind the cold, even though they were more often walking on the surface of the pond than swimming in it. The exotic ducks, geese and pelicans looked out of place in the snow, but were impressive all the same.
By the time we reached Trafalgar Square it was time for some lunch, and we ducked into a traditional pub on Whitehall for a bite to eat. As usual, the best thing about the meal was the beer. The food itself was hit (delicious sausage sandwich) or miss (dry, well done burger). At least we we able to warm up. Next we took a trip on the Tube to get to the Oxford St area, so that Kristal could visit Liberty of London, and experience the lavish fabric selection. I have to say, it was quite an experience for me too. I had never been in a department store that had an Oyster and Champagne Bar!
Another quick trip on the Tube brought us to St Paul's Cathedral, but our real destination was right across the river. Crossing the Millennium bridge to the south bank we headed into the cavernous main hall of the Tate Modern art gallery. The building itself is a work of art that trumps a lot of the modern art nonsense in the galleries, but I was exciting to see some really famous pieces "in the flesh". It's always a surprise to find out how big (or small) a painting you've seen in pictures a hundred times is. Matisse's Snail is huge, and so is Sea Roses by Monet. The video installations are as always deeply disturbing, but my favorite artwork was an entire room of silverware, silver plates and other silvery items like trumpets flattened with a steam roller and suspended a few inches above the floor on fishing line. The effect was mesmerizing, as small air currents generated as the crowd shuffled through would make the items swing almost imperceptibly.
Once we seen all the art we could take, we wondered down the South Bank a little ways, past the reconstructed Globe Theatre, hoping to experience Borough Market. It was closed. So, it was time for another ride on the underground. We ended up in Leicester Square, and tried to find somewhere to eat, but we didn't know what we were looking for and only had a little money left. Whilst we enjoyed meandering around the theater district, we had no luck finding a place that looked good for dinner, so we headed back towards Waterloo. However, I happened to know of a little strip behind County Hall that has a bagel shop, a sushi place and a noodle bar, and the thought of noodles captured our appetites.
Then it really was time to get back on the train, and before we knew it, we were back on a plane crossing the ocean and leaving wintry England behind. We had a blast, and will return. Sometime. Soon...ish.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Sick Leave
I almost achieved the great feat of blogging about my entire holiday on consecutive days, but unfortunately the illness that has been bugging me since my return finally caught up with me and I have been taking it easy in the evenings until I recover. In all honesty, I haven't been that sick, but I firmly believe that I suffer from the dreaded Man-flu, an apparently minor affliction that nonetheless renders me unable to perform any household chores, prepare food for myself, or locate medication without assistance from the amazing woman in my life.
In any case, I am not one who reaches for the pills at the first sign of a cold. It would seem to me that many medications treat the symptoms (headache, congestion, cough, etc) but do nothing to treat the cause (bacterial or viral infection), and speed recovery.
Still, to prevent me from taking out my frustration at being unwell on those around me, I will at some point reach for a random blister pack of caplets lying at the back of the medicine cabinet, covered in dust. On Tuesday my search produced a half-full box of Aleve, cold and sinus. These contain a mixture of Naproxen for the pain and fever, and Pseudoephdrine to relieve congestion.
Naproxen is a Non-Steroidal Anti-Inflammatory Drug (NSAID), which means it inhibits the Cycloxygenase (COX) enzymes that produce the biological substances called prostoglandins. This group of chemicals mediates inflammation (among many other things) and thus by blocking their production, NSAIDs reduce swelling and the associated discomfort. I couldn't find any evidence that Naproxen has any advantages over Ibuprofen. They have very similar chemical structure and appear to carry the same risks and benefits. Naproxen was developed almost twenty years after Boots Co. formulated Ibuprofen.
Psuedoephedrine (available on it's own as Sudafed) has a much more interesting chemistry, as it can be readily converted to Methamphetamine, the recreational drug.
Sudafed works by activating alpha-adrenergic receptors, having the effect of reducing swelling and mucus excretion in the nose and throat. The molecule has two chiral centers, which allows for four different configurations of the drug. Sudafed is comprised of (-)-Psuedoephedrine, where both chiral centers are in the left-handed configuration. It is this form that can be converted into the psychosimulant drug. Interestingly, Pfizer hold the patent for (+)-Psuedoephedrine (which when converted to methamphatamine is in a form not active on the central nervous system and found in Vick's inhalers), but for some reason they have decided not to produce and market the compound.
I didn't precisely follow the instructions on the Aleve packet. They prescribe "1 Caplet every 12 hours". I took 1 caplet. That was it. I prefer to rely on natural remedies.
Don't worry, I'm not about to proclaim that druidic formulations are more effective that pharmaceuticals. But a cup of lemon ginger tea makes me feel better, and doesn't come with the risk of stomach bleeding. I also occasionally wear a magnetic bracelet (by Bioflow), although I would struggle to explain why. I don't believe it has any specific physiological effect, but it didn't cost me much, and I like to keep people guessing.
Hopefully I will soon be well enough to conclude the tale of our adventures in England. Tonight I will be using the most powerful medication know to man: Chicken Noodle Soup. Complete recovery is almost guaranteed!
In any case, I am not one who reaches for the pills at the first sign of a cold. It would seem to me that many medications treat the symptoms (headache, congestion, cough, etc) but do nothing to treat the cause (bacterial or viral infection), and speed recovery.
Still, to prevent me from taking out my frustration at being unwell on those around me, I will at some point reach for a random blister pack of caplets lying at the back of the medicine cabinet, covered in dust. On Tuesday my search produced a half-full box of Aleve, cold and sinus. These contain a mixture of Naproxen for the pain and fever, and Pseudoephdrine to relieve congestion.
Naproxen is a Non-Steroidal Anti-Inflammatory Drug (NSAID), which means it inhibits the Cycloxygenase (COX) enzymes that produce the biological substances called prostoglandins. This group of chemicals mediates inflammation (among many other things) and thus by blocking their production, NSAIDs reduce swelling and the associated discomfort. I couldn't find any evidence that Naproxen has any advantages over Ibuprofen. They have very similar chemical structure and appear to carry the same risks and benefits. Naproxen was developed almost twenty years after Boots Co. formulated Ibuprofen.
Psuedoephedrine (available on it's own as Sudafed) has a much more interesting chemistry, as it can be readily converted to Methamphetamine, the recreational drug.
Sudafed works by activating alpha-adrenergic receptors, having the effect of reducing swelling and mucus excretion in the nose and throat. The molecule has two chiral centers, which allows for four different configurations of the drug. Sudafed is comprised of (-)-Psuedoephedrine, where both chiral centers are in the left-handed configuration. It is this form that can be converted into the psychosimulant drug. Interestingly, Pfizer hold the patent for (+)-Psuedoephedrine (which when converted to methamphatamine is in a form not active on the central nervous system and found in Vick's inhalers), but for some reason they have decided not to produce and market the compound.
I didn't precisely follow the instructions on the Aleve packet. They prescribe "1 Caplet every 12 hours". I took 1 caplet. That was it. I prefer to rely on natural remedies.
Don't worry, I'm not about to proclaim that druidic formulations are more effective that pharmaceuticals. But a cup of lemon ginger tea makes me feel better, and doesn't come with the risk of stomach bleeding. I also occasionally wear a magnetic bracelet (by Bioflow), although I would struggle to explain why. I don't believe it has any specific physiological effect, but it didn't cost me much, and I like to keep people guessing.
Hopefully I will soon be well enough to conclude the tale of our adventures in England. Tonight I will be using the most powerful medication know to man: Chicken Noodle Soup. Complete recovery is almost guaranteed!
Monday, January 12, 2009
Part 3 - Brizzle
Our final major excursion was to Bristol, where Martha and Graham were holding their 'We ran away to Hawaii to get married' party. The family drove down early in the day so we could get in a spot of sightseeing. One of my favorite spot in probably the whole country is the Clifton Suspension Bridge. It always strikes me as exactly the right bridge for the setting, spanning the Avon Gorge. On one of the adjacent hills stands a camera obscura at the top of a short tower, and it's fun to go in and watch the cars crossing the bridge.
We were soon in need of some lunch, and the man manning the dark chamber suggested we find a pub in Clifton Village. We stumbled across the Portcullis, run by a friendly young chap who actually came out the front door to gain our custom. In the end, I'm not sure the fare was to everyone's liking, but I rather enjoyed the experience. As you may have guessed, this was because the barman served beers from small, local breweries. He had selected which varieties to have on tap and was able to recommend and talk knowledgeably to those of us to desired a fine ale.
After lunch we popped into the City Museum, which pretty much took care of all genres of history in a very small space. I took in some Natural History (including a hedgehog), Egyptian history and some ornately decorated pianos. They were also displaying the entries from a nature photography competition. The room was very crowded, and many of the pictures, while stunning, were your usual nature photography cliches. The standout for me was a shot of a lopsided mushroom in the rain. I think most people would have completely overlooked that mushroom, but the composition is great.
Having had our fill of sightseeing for the day, we checked in to the Travelodge and made ourselves pretty for the party. Well, we did our best considering the Travelodge was the grimiest place I've ever stayed in! We arrived at the hotel and met Martha, looking stunning but a little chilly in her wedding dress. Soon other family and friends began arriving and the party got started. Everyone was very interested to hear how I was getting on in America, and more importantly to meet my gorgeous fiancee. We had to spread ourselves thinly to get around everyone and still get some dancing in! It was great to see so many people again, albeit far too briefly in many cases.
We were treated to a short speech by the bride and groom, and the best man did a grand job of digging up some of Graham's embarrassing past, as is the British custom! Graham and Martha wowed us on the dancefloor, and will probably never live down the fact that their 'first dance' was to ABBA!
Soon the party was over, and ever the old folks had made it through to midnight. In the next installment: One final day in London before we bid farewell to Blighty.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Part 2 - Belly Dancing
When we got back to Reading, Martha and Graham had arrived chez Evens, having visited with his family oop North. We all went up to Henley-on-Thames to take a look around. Braving the cold, we took a walk down to the lock and weir, then strolled around the town and did a spot of shopping.
We stopped for a beer in Wargrave at the George and Dragon, which appeared to have changed owner again and got a complete facelift in the process. Still, they had some pretty decent beers on (although the local brew was tapped out to the disappointment of Graham and I - we both like to sample something brewed nearby when we can). After a round of drinks we headed on down to Twyford, where I used to live, to find a curry house. For some reason, Twyford has a large selection of Idian restaurants, the most famous of which (in my opinion), is the Gaylord. You wouldn't believe the places I've been where when I mention I lived in Twyford someone mentions the Gaylord. And not just because of the humorous name - lots of poeple rate it as one of the best Tandoori places around. So of course we had to try it.
It didn't start off too well. It smelled a bit funny, and the poppadoms didn't come with the cucumber/yogurt dip that I like. Still, we knew we were in for an authentic experience as we could understand a word the waiter was saying, nor did he comprehend us. Always a good sign. When the main dishes came out, they were excelent. Kristal sensibly opted for a mild chicken tikka masarla which was one of the best I'd ever tasted. I tried to find something middle of the road, heat wise, but it turned out slightly hotter than I'd anticipated. Delicious, though.
The best part came at the end of the meal. The waiter came round with two Baileys and two scotches, and when we tried to explain that we hadn't ordered any drinks he said, 'On the house'! Not only that, but the ladies got complimentary roses. So there you go: If you fancy a curry tonight, go to Gaylord. It's on the High St opposite Waitrose.
After a short stay in Reading it was time to hit the road again, this time down to Guildford, where I was at University. We left around dinner time on the 30th, and spent the evening at Corinne and Pete's flat, with almost all my old uni mates. Was great to see all you guys! We had a bit more fun that we had intended, so spent most of the next day resting in preparation for the big one in London.
It was awesome riding the limo up to London, mostly because it was really quick and we got dropped off right next to the restaurant. It was so quick that we were early for our booking, and we were a bit worried that we would have to go wait in another pub, but it turned out that they sent us straight to our table and started bringing the food out!
The restaurant was Moroccan themed and the food was out of this world. We had just about got done with the appetizers when the belly dancers came out for their first routine. This girl was clearly a professional - I mean it takes skill to shake your hips like that! I was happily enjoying the show (purely as an art form, you understand), when she beckons for me to join her on the floor. Well, some invitations one just can't refuse. Needless to say, I am not a professional. If you haven't seen the photos yet, they you must have been hiding in a cave, because people have been commenting on them since New Year's day when they hit facebook!
The rest of the night was basically awesome, just hanging out with some good friends, smoking the hookah, drinking extortionately priced cocktails and generally having a good time. The announcement that 2009 had arrived was a bit, err, non-existent, but somehow we got the message an engaged in the requisite kissing and hugging etc.
The next day we did a quick driving tour of Guildford High Street, UniS, the cathedral and most of the places I'd living during my studies there. Then is was time to head back to Reading once more. Next time: the "Main Event" - we celebrate the marriage of Martha and Graham.
We stopped for a beer in Wargrave at the George and Dragon, which appeared to have changed owner again and got a complete facelift in the process. Still, they had some pretty decent beers on (although the local brew was tapped out to the disappointment of Graham and I - we both like to sample something brewed nearby when we can). After a round of drinks we headed on down to Twyford, where I used to live, to find a curry house. For some reason, Twyford has a large selection of Idian restaurants, the most famous of which (in my opinion), is the Gaylord. You wouldn't believe the places I've been where when I mention I lived in Twyford someone mentions the Gaylord. And not just because of the humorous name - lots of poeple rate it as one of the best Tandoori places around. So of course we had to try it.
It didn't start off too well. It smelled a bit funny, and the poppadoms didn't come with the cucumber/yogurt dip that I like. Still, we knew we were in for an authentic experience as we could understand a word the waiter was saying, nor did he comprehend us. Always a good sign. When the main dishes came out, they were excelent. Kristal sensibly opted for a mild chicken tikka masarla which was one of the best I'd ever tasted. I tried to find something middle of the road, heat wise, but it turned out slightly hotter than I'd anticipated. Delicious, though.
The best part came at the end of the meal. The waiter came round with two Baileys and two scotches, and when we tried to explain that we hadn't ordered any drinks he said, 'On the house'! Not only that, but the ladies got complimentary roses. So there you go: If you fancy a curry tonight, go to Gaylord. It's on the High St opposite Waitrose.
After a short stay in Reading it was time to hit the road again, this time down to Guildford, where I was at University. We left around dinner time on the 30th, and spent the evening at Corinne and Pete's flat, with almost all my old uni mates. Was great to see all you guys! We had a bit more fun that we had intended, so spent most of the next day resting in preparation for the big one in London.
It was awesome riding the limo up to London, mostly because it was really quick and we got dropped off right next to the restaurant. It was so quick that we were early for our booking, and we were a bit worried that we would have to go wait in another pub, but it turned out that they sent us straight to our table and started bringing the food out!
The restaurant was Moroccan themed and the food was out of this world. We had just about got done with the appetizers when the belly dancers came out for their first routine. This girl was clearly a professional - I mean it takes skill to shake your hips like that! I was happily enjoying the show (purely as an art form, you understand), when she beckons for me to join her on the floor. Well, some invitations one just can't refuse. Needless to say, I am not a professional. If you haven't seen the photos yet, they you must have been hiding in a cave, because people have been commenting on them since New Year's day when they hit facebook!
The rest of the night was basically awesome, just hanging out with some good friends, smoking the hookah, drinking extortionately priced cocktails and generally having a good time. The announcement that 2009 had arrived was a bit, err, non-existent, but somehow we got the message an engaged in the requisite kissing and hugging etc.
The next day we did a quick driving tour of Guildford High Street, UniS, the cathedral and most of the places I'd living during my studies there. Then is was time to head back to Reading once more. Next time: the "Main Event" - we celebrate the marriage of Martha and Graham.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
England Part 1 - The Cotswolds
I slept for 12 straight hours last night. I was beginning to struggle as soon as I got in from work, but by the time dinner reached the table I couldn't keep my eyes open and had to retreat to Bedminster. Hopefully that took care of the jetlag.
Our first real expedition of the trip was to visit our friends Chris and Rowie in the Cotswolds. OK, actually not quite the Cotswolds, but everyone laughs at me when I enthusiastically mention Swindon. We visited Cirencester, an historic Roman town. We visited exactly none of the attractions from the Roman period, because it was Sunday and everything was closed. Really the most interesting thing we saw was St John's Parish church which was undergoing major renovation. In the afternoon we drove out to some smaller villages. Burford high street runs down a hill and is full of cute shops. We stopped in the country clothing store, where the only item we could afford was the possum fur willy warmers! In the sweet shop I found some adorable chocolate hedgehogs (they were also very yummy!). Kristal of course sought out the needlework shop...
Once it started getting dark we went back to the car and traveled to Lechlade for some local brews. The first pub we went into had just started their own range of microbrews, and although only one variety was yet available, it was delicious. The pub was very popular, and was definitely the authentic English pub experience, with open fires, agricultural implements stuck on every wall and a good crowd of locals enjoying fine ales.
The same could not be said of the next spot we chose. We were hoping to sample some of the beers from the Arkells brewery, which is big in that area. Unfortunately the pub we chose only had their basic beers on (not the seasonal ales we were hoping for), and they were absolutely disgusting! Up til now I don't think I've ever met a beer I didn't like. Sure, some have strong flavors that can be an acquired taste, but these ales smelled like vinegar and I was sure something must be wrong with them. I asked the barman (who by this point was tucking into a revolting chicken curry (the house specialty), but after a quick taste be assured me the 'musty' aroma was normal. None of us could stomach them and I was glad I chosen a cider.
On the way home we picked up a few bottles of the seasonal brews, a Christmas ale and an organic one which were both delicious.
The highlight of our trip to Swindon was definitely the food. On the first night we went round to the local fish and chip shop and picked up cod, chips, jumbo sausage, cornish pasty, mushy peas and garlic mayo. It was a huge feast, and for Kristal I think it was love a fist bite! It's definitely the best comfort food on a cold winter's night. Our second night there was bangers, mash and beans, to prove my point that sausages and baked beans in the UK are far superior to anything you can find stateside. Case closed.
Next time: I return to my university town, and we head into London for New Year's!
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Evens Family Christmas
Our final act before departing from Dulles International Airport, Washington DC was to have one last Mexican! Terminal building restaurants are, ironically, interminable. We stopped in for a quick bite, but were left watching other diners (who had arrived after us) tuck into their meals. Eventually Kristal said something, and our cheese quesadillas were then quickly produced. The small discount offered by way of apology was, well, small. We tipped appropriately. Still, it was good preparation for the kind of service we could expect once on British soil!
Thanks to my imaginative planning, we arrived fresh from eight hours of no leg room and precious little sleep to a crisp Christmas Day dawning on the green hills of Berkshire. In fact, our flight had been very pleasant. I have to give credit to Virgin Atlantic, who did a great job on the food and drink. The cabin crew seem to have mastered the fine art of plying the clientele with booze while keeping us suitable hydrated: a careful balancing act that make the entire experience much more bearable.
Fortunately a sedate Christmas had been arranged at the Evens household. I lasted long enough to enjoy some kind gifts and festive foods, before completely and suddenly crashing into a deep sleep! I really don't remember what happened the rest of the day. I know I was woken in the early evening, and presumably further eating and making merry took place, but apparently my brain was in no state to form memories!
By Boxing Day we were sufficiently revived to take a trip to Windsor to see the Castle, the River, the green parakeets. We got a good taste of the type of weather we could expect over the next two weeks. You may notice that in all the photos we are peeking out from behind hats and scarves, doing our best to stay warm (although I recall only about two occasions that I really achieved that!).
Tune in next time to hear about our adventures in British food during our stay in the Cotswalds.
McKelvey Family Christmas.
Yes, I have noticed that there is one Christmas account missing from this Blog. No doubt the McKelveys are incensed that I've omitted them. Well, too bad! There just wasn't the time with all the packing and preparations going on. However, we had a wonderful time (I particularly enjoyed winning at the Applesapapples game), and if I'm completely honest the roast was probably the best food we had all season, and thus beat Grandma's Oyster stew (shame on you!). Y'all know where the photos'll be. Peace.
I was back in the UK. Sorry if you missed me!
We have just got back from a cold but very enjoyable holiday back on my home turf in the South of England. A huge thank you to all those who made our trip what it was. It was absolutely fantastic to catch up with so many friends and family. I have uploaded all the photos to flickr so go ahead and browse through them. Also expect more posts here detailing the highlights of our trip, of which there were many. However, we can honestly say that it feels great to be back home! Back to a nice soft bed instead of various futons; back to sunny winter's days in the high 40's; back to our precious, attention-starved kitty cat!
I worried that I would find England a strange, foreign land that I didn't understand anymore. On the other hand I feared that I would find I had been missing English things so much it would be painful when the holiday ended and I would have to leave again. But as it turned out, England hadn't changed that much. Sure, it was great to indulge in some true British cuisine, and fun to see the place again (both the usual tourist spots and the locations that only mean something to me), but there are no burritos and that clinches it for me.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Blake Family Christmas
The photo's are up on my Flickr. One down, two to go. The Oyster stew is a hard act to follow!
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
I lied. There are several pictures from around my birthday that I want to share. I just hadn't taken them yet. On the left is our advent calender (expertly crafted by Kristal).
The most expert thing about it is that it is filled with Lindor truffles! Ithink there are five different varieties but we threw away the package and can't remember what the colors mean. One of them, we reckon the orange wrapped ones, are peanut butter flavor. I don't know why everyone insists on producing a peanut butter variety these days. Perhaps Reese's patent ran out. nevermind, all the other flavors are delicious.
I've always liked the fact that my birthday marks the start of advent. My mom kept up the tradition this year of giving me an advent greetings card on my birthday, which is perfect for me to display at work where a chocolate filled calender would contravene health and safety regulations!
This year, the procession through the calender windows also marks the countdown to are trip to England! Two weeks to go!
Since we won't be at home for Christmas, we are doing minimal decorating. However, I got these lights for cheap at Target the day of Halloween. I did a hopeless job of putting them up the first time, and they kept falling down and tangling up the screen door. On Black Friday I bought myself an early b'day present of a step-ladder, so I was able to hang them properly. Down the street there is a yard with the full compliment of inflatable winter festival characters, and they even blare out festive music. I also discovered a life sized Santa's sleigh and reindeer 'flying' in a beautiful arc a few feet off the ground of another neighborhood yard. I'f I can get a picture of it I'll post it up on Flickr.
Monday, December 08, 2008
On turning 25
Sorry for any readers who have been waiting for a post about my recent Birthday. As followers of this blog will know, I usually like to start off my posts with a photo or two, but for some reason there hasn't been much camera use lately. I completely failed to get any shots of our enormous Thanksgiving feast. Nothing much exciting happened on my birthday actual. Then in the happy chaos of celebrating my birthday AND engagement on Saturday with a night of bowling, the camera once again stayed in my coat pocket.
Since there are no pictures to display, I shall have to fall back on entertaining you all with scintillating prose. So what can I say about clicking over the quarter century mark?
The first thing that comes to mind is that my birthday marked exactly two and a half years since my arrival in this great land. I honestly can't believe it has been so long. Despite being now well integrated into society and having perhaps developed a passable urban Virginia accent, I still frequently feel like a foreigner. While undoubtedly my understanding of the American people has deepened immensely (especially after living through the longest Presidential Election in history with them) I know I will never be fully American. At twenty-five it so happens that I am probably as close as I ever will be to being truly half-and-half, not just by birth but in culture also.
Secondly, becoming engaged has certainly reversed my perspective on age. If there was any fear that I would start to feel old when I reached 25, that was all swept away when I put a ring on my young lady's finger. Now if anything I feel far too young to be taking such a grown up step. However, I'm certainly not too modest to say that I'm very proud of Kristal and myself for taking this step together, and the timing in both our lives feels though it could not have been better.
During a conversation at the bowling alley, we were pondering what age we might live to see. Somebody born at the end of the 19th Century would never have imagined they would live to be 115, but that is exactly what Maria de Jesus dos Santos has done. Who can how old the super-centenarians of the 22nd Century will be, and if any of us will be among them?
Since there are no pictures to display, I shall have to fall back on entertaining you all with scintillating prose. So what can I say about clicking over the quarter century mark?
The first thing that comes to mind is that my birthday marked exactly two and a half years since my arrival in this great land. I honestly can't believe it has been so long. Despite being now well integrated into society and having perhaps developed a passable urban Virginia accent, I still frequently feel like a foreigner. While undoubtedly my understanding of the American people has deepened immensely (especially after living through the longest Presidential Election in history with them) I know I will never be fully American. At twenty-five it so happens that I am probably as close as I ever will be to being truly half-and-half, not just by birth but in culture also.
Secondly, becoming engaged has certainly reversed my perspective on age. If there was any fear that I would start to feel old when I reached 25, that was all swept away when I put a ring on my young lady's finger. Now if anything I feel far too young to be taking such a grown up step. However, I'm certainly not too modest to say that I'm very proud of Kristal and myself for taking this step together, and the timing in both our lives feels though it could not have been better.
During a conversation at the bowling alley, we were pondering what age we might live to see. Somebody born at the end of the 19th Century would never have imagined they would live to be 115, but that is exactly what Maria de Jesus dos Santos has done. Who can how old the super-centenarians of the 22nd Century will be, and if any of us will be among them?
In case you haven't heard...
...Kristal and I will be getting married! For the full story on how this came about, head on over to Dawn Stiches.
We are both very happy, excited and in love. Thanks to everyone who has already passed on their message of congratulations.
We are both very happy, excited and in love. Thanks to everyone who has already passed on their message of congratulations.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Neuschwanstein Castle
We final finished this 2000 piece puzzle! We bought it to celebrate having a coffee table to do a puzzle on, so we must have started back at the end of September. The castle was completed fairly quickly, then it was slow going until I spent a couple of evenings tackling the sky. We took a long break around Halloween as the puzzle got moved into K's sewing room so we could entertain in the living room. Recently we returned it to pride of place on the coffee table and I have been grinding away on finishing the foliage. The last pieces slotted into place this evening, just in time to take it apart to make way for Thanksgiving!
The lesson here is, don't try to do a 2000 piece puzzle on a coffee table. It was the only design I really liked at Target, which is why we chose this one instead of a more sensible size. Of course when we got it home we discovered it wouldn't fit on the table! Luckily K had a table pad from her Grandmother that was only about a quarter inch short, and worked fine except that it folded in three so was never completely flat at the creases and was a pig to move...
I am accustomed to having enough flat space to lay out all the pieces and maybe have enough room to move them around, but since the puzzle didn't even fit we were stuck hunting through the box, picking out interesting pieces. Very frustrating. When I was working on the sky I was convinced I had all the blue ones, but it took another half dozen searches to eventually track them all down. For a time we used the box and lid to transfer pieces back and forth as we hunted. I found a big sheet of, er, something white and rigid, so I could lay some pieces out and organize them, which helped a lot. But yeah, next time we're getting the 250 piece puzzle that's a picture of kittens...
Thursday, November 13, 2008
The Nat'l
The National is an old theater house that recent re-opened as a music venue. I was invited a short notice to go see Conor Oberst and Ben Kweller, and as my faithful reader will know, I need turn down an invitation to a random event. Besides, I'm completely out of touch with the local (and national) music scene.
Since none of us had been to the Nat'l before, we showed up shortly after the doors opened to make sure we didn't miss anything. And wasn't is lucky we did, or we wouldn't have been treated to Rig 1. My best guess would be to label them an Indie Rap Group, if that genre even exists. The front man reminded me of Dider Revol in Son of Ranbow. I wasn't totally convinced by an outfit that produces only a small portion of their music live (mostly Dider 'rapped' over a backing track with disorted fills from his guitarist and bassist), and his a cappella number was like being at some strange trippy poetry reading. At least they solved the question of whether I was going to drink or not. PBR on tap? Oh, why thank you...
They seem to have their game together at the National, because the wait between acts seemed refreshingly short. Before long, Ben Kweller came skipping on stage. At first I thought there had been some mistake. The voluminous dirty blonde curly hair; the denim vest; the cute as apple pie voice? There was no way this was a dude. But a dude he was, and proceeded to launch into a set of what I'm calling 'punk folk' for want of a better description. For me the star of the show was pedal steel, played by an older gentleman in thick black-rimmed glasses (my associates disagreed). Basically the whole experience was making me think I was in Greenville in 1973, but what the hey.
After Ben had warmed us up it was onto the main event. Advertised as Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band, I was expecting something along the lines of Newgrass, but was way off!
Again, words fail to really describe the odd arrangement of musicians assembled on stage. Perhaps this is the truest use of the term Indie. There wasn't really a band on stage, rather several individuals playing in concert. The most individual of them all was Conor himself who fits neatly into the category of arrogant prick. Technical prowess was hard to come by from any member of the group, who seemed to be centered around Conor's poetic lyrical meanderings. Personally I much preferred when he let one of the other band members take a song.
Well, some of the tunes were likable enough, and three PBRs in I was ready to get my groove on, which brought disparaging remarks about the quality of English dancing from my acquaintances. Most of the rest of the crowd stood there with their arms crossed, but clearly they were enjoying themselves more than they were expressing, as the calls for an encore were energetic and appreciative.
The band returned after just enough time for a few rounds of shots chased with a beer. After a few more numbers indistinguishable from the rest of the set, Conor invited Ben out on stage, announcing that this was Ben's last date on the tour with them. Ben, who had clearly spent the entirety of the headliner's set with a bottle of Jim Beam, staggered on stage for a rendition of Kodachrome, which they made a good job of, actually. After this point I don't really remember a lot of the music. Ben and Conor were climbing all over the stage equipment, kicking over drinks and throwing mics around. Conor tried to skip rope with the microphone lead, but got it tangled, first on Ben's guitar, then on a mic stand, before finally making a full rotation and drawing disproportionate applause from a highly entertained audience.
So, in the end a good time was had by all. It was just what I needed as an antidote to a crap week. I'm not hurrying out to buy their latest records, but they sure know how to put on a show, so Kudos to Ben and Conor.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Paying for Medicine
One of the interesting things to come out of the campaign debates was a tangible fear among Republicans of 'Socialized Medicine'. Of course, to me this seems completely back to front - I had been assuming that Americans unanimously wished they could be like almost all of the rest of the civilized world and receive free public healthcare. To me, the concept of having to pay was totally alien and rather offensive at first. But now that I've had a few experiences with the American health system, I'm beginning to understand the argument a little better.
My first encounter was almost totally negative. I took a trip to the ER, which turned out to be completely unnecessary, but cost me $150. Luckily they never billed me for the Ambulance ride. But this event highlights two of the biggest problems in my mind with how the system works.
Firstly, treatment is not offered conditionally based on price. That is, you're never asked "Would you like this treatment (it will be $100)?". It is assumed that you want whatever treatment is best for you, and that you will pay with bill no matter the amount. Where else do middle class people make choices on those terms. At a restaurant, you decide whether to order the lobster partly based on the price of the dish.
Secondly, if you have insurance, you know they're trying to screw you somehow. It is virtually impossible to tell what you'll have to pay for until they send you the bill.
I was also very disappointed by the level of service at the ER. They weren't busy, and I guess I felt that since I was paying to be here, I should be treated like a hotel guest!
Anyway, my recent trip to the doctor was much more positive. Don't worry, there's nothing wrong with me! But it's about time I began regular check-ups, and I've been putting it off simply because I had no idea where to begin. In England, it seems so simple. You find you nearest GP, and go there. But here you have this wonderful thing called choice, which makes things impossibly complicated. Again, there is so much information out there, but so little of it is made readily available to the 'consumer', so having to make an educated choice is a complete headache. In the end, I discovered the secret shortcut: Ask someone at work who their doctor is - then you know that you'll be covered by insurance and you get a personal recommendation.
Going to the Doctor (by contrast to the ER) seemed like the deal of the century! For $25 I got one-to-one attention. When I go back for a 45 minute physical exam, again it's just $25! The people are friendly, and I felt like i was being treated with the respect that a paying customer deserves. I think the euphoria is mostly relief of knowing that I have somewhere to go now if I fall seriously ill. And really, the healthcare is only cheap so long as your healthy! Once you need regular treatment, it quickly become a whole different story. Perhaps it's good, as it encourages preventative measures.
My first encounter was almost totally negative. I took a trip to the ER, which turned out to be completely unnecessary, but cost me $150. Luckily they never billed me for the Ambulance ride. But this event highlights two of the biggest problems in my mind with how the system works.
Firstly, treatment is not offered conditionally based on price. That is, you're never asked "Would you like this treatment (it will be $100)?". It is assumed that you want whatever treatment is best for you, and that you will pay with bill no matter the amount. Where else do middle class people make choices on those terms. At a restaurant, you decide whether to order the lobster partly based on the price of the dish.
Secondly, if you have insurance, you know they're trying to screw you somehow. It is virtually impossible to tell what you'll have to pay for until they send you the bill.
I was also very disappointed by the level of service at the ER. They weren't busy, and I guess I felt that since I was paying to be here, I should be treated like a hotel guest!
Anyway, my recent trip to the doctor was much more positive. Don't worry, there's nothing wrong with me! But it's about time I began regular check-ups, and I've been putting it off simply because I had no idea where to begin. In England, it seems so simple. You find you nearest GP, and go there. But here you have this wonderful thing called choice, which makes things impossibly complicated. Again, there is so much information out there, but so little of it is made readily available to the 'consumer', so having to make an educated choice is a complete headache. In the end, I discovered the secret shortcut: Ask someone at work who their doctor is - then you know that you'll be covered by insurance and you get a personal recommendation.
Going to the Doctor (by contrast to the ER) seemed like the deal of the century! For $25 I got one-to-one attention. When I go back for a 45 minute physical exam, again it's just $25! The people are friendly, and I felt like i was being treated with the respect that a paying customer deserves. I think the euphoria is mostly relief of knowing that I have somewhere to go now if I fall seriously ill. And really, the healthcare is only cheap so long as your healthy! Once you need regular treatment, it quickly become a whole different story. Perhaps it's good, as it encourages preventative measures.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
"Change has come to America"
No, I didn't stay up to find out the outcome of the election. This morning was quite soon enough, and it was worth waiting just to avoid listening to the delusional babble of the news networks. Besides, once Ohio had gone into the Blue column, the result seemed almost inevitable. Nor can I say I was interested in wild celebrations regarding the appointment. Sure, I think the right man won, but my relationship with politics is intellectual rather than emotional. And while I'm far from Anarchistic, I try to live as independently from the government as I can. That is to say, whatever decisions Mr Obama makes, I'm sure there will be an avenue for me (and anyone else) to prosper.
In any case, from what I here of the reactions of important people, there seems plenty of room for optimism. There have been a lot of people saying that McCain's concession speech was superior to Obama's acceptance oration, but I'd have thought it obvious to anyone that it is easier to be graceful in defeat than victory, especially in what is essentially a popularity contest. Saying, "The other guy would've done just as good a job" is no way to either thank your supporters or reach out to the opposition. I've also heard a lot of comments that if McCain had expressed himself throughout the election like he did at the very end, he would've been a candidate they could vote for. Well, that's the point, isn't it? John McCain isn't an infinitely gracious man, and the mean streak he frequently showed during the campaign marked him as second best.
Bush says he'll make the handover as smooth as possible, which is probably the only sensible thing he's said in 8 years. Really the best thing about the outcome for me is that what it will do for America image to the rest of the world. Perhaps I can dare to show some pride of my American half when I return to the UK.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Election Day!
To the surprise of a few of my colleagues (who still haven't exactly worked out how I possibly got here) I am in fact eligible and, as a responsible citizen, registered to vote in the USA. Thus it came to pass that Kristal and I ventured out on a rainy November morning to cast our votes. We are in the 106th precinct and our polling station is the local High School. The polls open at 6am, but we decided to wait for the rush of super-keen voters to die down, and give ourselves a few extra minutes in bed. I think we arrived around half-seven. For some reason the USA doesn't see fit to give it's electorate a public holiday once every four years for the general election, but I was allowed two hours of the work day to do the business.
Lucky, really, because voting wasn't exactly a speedy as I had dared dreamed. We did avoid the rush, according to a few people who had witnessed lines snaking around the building. Fortunately we were at least able to queue inside, out of the rain. We arrived, and I guess the guy at the front door hadn't been told that the crush had died down, as we were sent on a looping tour of the school corridors, only to arrive inside a door right behind the guy who had directed us! So far, off to a bad start.
After a few minutes in the queue, an election official came down the line calling for surnames Emm thru Zee to come forward, so Kristal dutifully went on and got her ballot ticket. However, there was apparently some hold up for the A-E crowd. By the time I got near the front of the queue, Kristal was done voting. So were her Sister and Brother-in-law, who had arrived about a quarter-hour after us! Kristal offered me her crossword puzzle, but I was being entertained by a gentleman who had graduated from this very High School in 1976, and would love to tell us all about it...
Finally I got to the table where they check your name on the register and give you the ballot ticket. The table was divided into four sections, alphabetically by surname, and the three sections from F onwards were empty. For whatever reason I was standing at the A-E section with 50 increasingly irate voters behind me. The reason appeared to be that one person with an A-E surname had arrived earlier, but their eligibility to vote was in doubt. Rather than take the problem aside, well meaning ladies of the Librarian caste were continually interrupting the A-E checkers with inadequate explanations of what was happening. The A-E checkers would then have a leisurely debate about whether it was OK to cross out an entry on the register or not. Neither could quite remember this being covered in the evening class. Eventually they realized that they needed to sort this out later - right now the priority was to process the stern young man standing in front of them who looks like he's about to knock their heads together.
After I got my ballot ticket, it was relatively smooth sailing. I had to wait in another line for a while, and somehow they had designed they queuing system so that the two lines crossed each other, but they had about 10 voting stations, so thing moved along nicely. You exchange you ballot ticket for a place at a touchscreen computer, and somebody helpfully informs you that you need to press the big red 'VOTE' button that shows up at the end for your ballot to count. Then your done!
All-in-all it wasn't that terrible. I mean, obviously there is no reason to keep a large fully trained staff for an event that occurs but once in four years. It can't be easy to arrange for an estimated 3.5 million Virginia voters to cast their ballot in 13 hours. It reminds me of sitting school exams. As you sit their watching the poor teacher fumble around with the sealed envelopes of papers, trying to follow some arcane regulation, you think to yourself, "You better not mess this up, because if you do I might not get a grade, and I've worked too damn hard!" Likewise, you enter the polling station, look around at the usual voluntary sector crew, and think, "You better not foul this up, because the vote in Virginia could mean something this time". We'll know soon enough.
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
New lights in the Kitchen
Ever since we moved in, the light level over the sink has been terrible. Well, that's the excuse we use for rarely doing the washing-up! Now that it's getting darker in the evenings, the problem is only worsening. A couple of weekends ago we took a trip to Lowe's to find some kind of light fixture that might improve our situation. I measured the length of wire we would need to reach a socket, and we had fairly clear criteria in mind: We must be able to turn it on and off easily while standing at the sink; it must cast enough light from the ceiling to give us a bright working environment; and we needed to install it without causing too much damage to the (rental) house - so no chasing the walls to tap into the house's wiring.
For once we found the required department of the home improvement store right away. Usually it is a painful process just to get yourself in the vicinity of whatever you're looking for, but the lighting dept. was pretty obvious! However, we weren't having much luck meeting our expectations for a kitchen light. The under-counter lights seemed like the right idea, but they were rather dim and we would need to extend the cord and have some kind of switch...wait - they have those extension cords with switches on, don't they?
After a good half-hour of attempting to cobble together a neat solution with components we thought a good electrics dept ought to have, we finally sought out a store employee for some further advice. We were politely pointed in the direction of a retired electrician, who was more than happy to wonder around the aisles, pulling a plethora of products from the shelves and offering a variety of solutions that still didn't quite sound like they would work out how we'd planned. Sadly, despite his enthusiastic support, we left empty handed, planning to re-evaluate the possibilities rather than take an arm-load of goodies home and rig up a bodge job.
It happened that Kristal's parents came to visit over the weekend, and we were discussing the conundrum with her Dad. As usually seems to happen, it wasn't long before he recalled that he had just what we needed back home in a shed somewhere, and he'd be happy to take a look for it and send it along to us. Thus on Tuesday, the perfect little light bar arrives, with two spots that take regular bulbs. I scrounged a couple of screws from my toolbox that seemed made for the job at hand, and had it installed in minutes. The only problem was turning the lights on and off, without having to take the plug out every time. I headed back to the hardware store for a clicker-wheel switch.
Now, I done a fair amount of tinkering with British electrics (yes, I was one of those kids who took everything apart), so I assumed it'd be plain sailing to fit a simple in-line switch. As it turns out, I had no clue what I was meant to do with this tiny thing. The answer, of course, was to find one in the house that was already assembled, dismantle it and see how it goes back together. Apparently, the neutral wire runs straight through the switch housing, and just the live gets cut, the blunt ends kinda wedged in. When you reassemble the housing, copper spikes piece the sheathing on the cut ends of the live wire to complete the connection through the clicker wheel. I was rather impressed with the simple elegance of it, as I had planned to have to strip wire-ends and insert them into impossibly fiddly connectors.
Anyway, it you want to see some photos, head over to my flickr page. Mostly we are re-enacting for the camera, but you get the idea. It really brightens up the place a lot, and does it neatly and safely, which is soothing to my ever-so-slightly-OCD-tendencies. In fact, the two 15W energy saving (60W equivalent) bulbs are so bright I've had to point them at the ceiling!
Thanks Don!
For once we found the required department of the home improvement store right away. Usually it is a painful process just to get yourself in the vicinity of whatever you're looking for, but the lighting dept. was pretty obvious! However, we weren't having much luck meeting our expectations for a kitchen light. The under-counter lights seemed like the right idea, but they were rather dim and we would need to extend the cord and have some kind of switch...wait - they have those extension cords with switches on, don't they?
After a good half-hour of attempting to cobble together a neat solution with components we thought a good electrics dept ought to have, we finally sought out a store employee for some further advice. We were politely pointed in the direction of a retired electrician, who was more than happy to wonder around the aisles, pulling a plethora of products from the shelves and offering a variety of solutions that still didn't quite sound like they would work out how we'd planned. Sadly, despite his enthusiastic support, we left empty handed, planning to re-evaluate the possibilities rather than take an arm-load of goodies home and rig up a bodge job.
It happened that Kristal's parents came to visit over the weekend, and we were discussing the conundrum with her Dad. As usually seems to happen, it wasn't long before he recalled that he had just what we needed back home in a shed somewhere, and he'd be happy to take a look for it and send it along to us. Thus on Tuesday, the perfect little light bar arrives, with two spots that take regular bulbs. I scrounged a couple of screws from my toolbox that seemed made for the job at hand, and had it installed in minutes. The only problem was turning the lights on and off, without having to take the plug out every time. I headed back to the hardware store for a clicker-wheel switch.
Now, I done a fair amount of tinkering with British electrics (yes, I was one of those kids who took everything apart), so I assumed it'd be plain sailing to fit a simple in-line switch. As it turns out, I had no clue what I was meant to do with this tiny thing. The answer, of course, was to find one in the house that was already assembled, dismantle it and see how it goes back together. Apparently, the neutral wire runs straight through the switch housing, and just the live gets cut, the blunt ends kinda wedged in. When you reassemble the housing, copper spikes piece the sheathing on the cut ends of the live wire to complete the connection through the clicker wheel. I was rather impressed with the simple elegance of it, as I had planned to have to strip wire-ends and insert them into impossibly fiddly connectors.
Anyway, it you want to see some photos, head over to my flickr page. Mostly we are re-enacting for the camera, but you get the idea. It really brightens up the place a lot, and does it neatly and safely, which is soothing to my ever-so-slightly-OCD-tendencies. In fact, the two 15W energy saving (60W equivalent) bulbs are so bright I've had to point them at the ceiling!
Thanks Don!
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Herbs (the 'H' is Silent)
The 'erbs needs to be rescued from the front bed last week. Grass and weeds had completely choked them, but once they were dug out I was please to find that they were all in pretty good shape. Once we had them safely transferred to one of the square gardens, I dug out the remaining sunflower stumps, pulled the weeds and put some mulch down. Hopefully we can get a few bulbs in there for the spring.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Coffee Table
I believe in enriching my stay in the USA by partaking in activities enjoyed by the everyday American. This weekend I experienced another all-American, down-home, good-ole-boy pastime; browsing yard sales. I've been on the lookout for a coffee table on Craigslist for several weeks, but none of my enquiries were ripening into deals. We wanted a simple wooden table, and it seemed mostly likely that we find one sitting out on someone's front yard on a Saturday morning. I tried to be authentic as possible, so I donned sweatpants and climbed into the truck. However, to avoid buying a ton of crap, we would crawl by each yard, and if no coffee table was apparent, keep on moving! I had a list of about six sales, and the addresses, but we quickly put the list aside and just followed the signs as we saw them. Yard sales are everywhere! We probably drove past five or six spots, all tucked away in cute neighborhoods that we would never have any other reason to visit. Despite having no luck finding our desired item, we were having a lot of fun. Finally we found what we we looking for, and picked up a coffee table and side table for the princely sum of twenty bucks. The worst did almost happen when a little person started grilling us about dog ownership, and began suggesting several other items we might like to take off his hands. Luckily, we managed to avoid both admitting we don't own a dog without breaking the facade of all-Americanism, and buying more random household goods.
A bit of a sanding, and a lick of stain, and we have a rather fetching set of rustic looking tables!
You Can't Take it With You
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin. As I've often said about blogging: Either nothing interesting is happening or I'm so busy with blog-worthy activities that there is no time to write. I now have a backlog of recent events to publish on the web, beginning here with a trip to the playhouse.
You can blame 250+ cable channels for the fact that young people don't go out to see plays anymore. I can't say that I'll go out of my way in search of amateur dramatics, but there's something about the words 'free tickets' that piques my interest. So my Grandparents had a couple of spare tickets to a play. On an army base. The driver would be here at seven. Were we interested?
I stared the gift-horse straight in the face - and blinked first. How bad could it possibly be? The details were hazy, but would you believe it was the best offer we had for our Friday night! Thus we departed for Fort Lee (just outside Petersburg) to see the local Morale Welfare and Recreation Theater Company, and their production of Hart and Kaufman's You Can't Take it With You.
Perhaps to continue the theme of having absolutely no idea what we were getting ourselves in for, we took our seats without picking up a programme. I detest programmes, and the way everyone sits there with their noses stuck in them until the curtain goes up. A glance around the auditorium confirmed that we were easily the youngest members of the audience (with the exception of another couple just a few rows away, who turned out to be friends of ours!). Minutes into the play we began to wish we had the programme. What the blazes was this foolishness all about? The jokes were so awkward it was like it had been written in the 1930s or something!
OK, it turns out it was written in the '30s. How was I to know?! However, by the intermission we were still none the wiser. A whole family of insane characters had been introduced, followed by more characters, then more...the doorbell would ring every two minutes, and here would be some other acquaintance, stopping by to add to the confusion. We took heart from discovering that the more seasoned theater-goers accompanying us were jest as baffled. Refreshments were definitely called for, and the army clearly knew how to make you feel welcome. Wine was $1.50 a glass! Perhaps a swift drink would bring the insanity into focus.
The second half got rolling, and pieces started falling into place. The daughter of this free-thinking family was engaged to the son of a high-flying Wall Street Banker. Could the two families ever see eye-to-eye? Probably not, is the answer, especially after the Feds burst in a cart the entire cast off to Jail for the night! I predicted that the play would conclude with a philosophical monologue by the Grandpa, but instead we were treated to a dialogue between the Grandpa and the Wall Street Banker, with interjections from a house-guest who happened to be the cousin of the deposed Russian Tsar (and cafe waitress)! It probably spoke louder in it's time, but had an uncanny resonance considering the current turmoil on Wall St. Most importantly, it turned out to be warmly entertaining, and executed with a genuine enthusiasm that tends to exude from amateur groups. My favorite part was probably when the Russian dance instructor informs the Wall Street man that he has the perfect build for wrestling, then immediately leaps across the the room, tackles the unsuspecting banker and pins him to the floor to prove his point. Physical comedy is timeless!
You can blame 250+ cable channels for the fact that young people don't go out to see plays anymore. I can't say that I'll go out of my way in search of amateur dramatics, but there's something about the words 'free tickets' that piques my interest. So my Grandparents had a couple of spare tickets to a play. On an army base. The driver would be here at seven. Were we interested?
I stared the gift-horse straight in the face - and blinked first. How bad could it possibly be? The details were hazy, but would you believe it was the best offer we had for our Friday night! Thus we departed for Fort Lee (just outside Petersburg) to see the local Morale Welfare and Recreation Theater Company, and their production of Hart and Kaufman's You Can't Take it With You.
Perhaps to continue the theme of having absolutely no idea what we were getting ourselves in for, we took our seats without picking up a programme. I detest programmes, and the way everyone sits there with their noses stuck in them until the curtain goes up. A glance around the auditorium confirmed that we were easily the youngest members of the audience (with the exception of another couple just a few rows away, who turned out to be friends of ours!). Minutes into the play we began to wish we had the programme. What the blazes was this foolishness all about? The jokes were so awkward it was like it had been written in the 1930s or something!
OK, it turns out it was written in the '30s. How was I to know?! However, by the intermission we were still none the wiser. A whole family of insane characters had been introduced, followed by more characters, then more...the doorbell would ring every two minutes, and here would be some other acquaintance, stopping by to add to the confusion. We took heart from discovering that the more seasoned theater-goers accompanying us were jest as baffled. Refreshments were definitely called for, and the army clearly knew how to make you feel welcome. Wine was $1.50 a glass! Perhaps a swift drink would bring the insanity into focus.
The second half got rolling, and pieces started falling into place. The daughter of this free-thinking family was engaged to the son of a high-flying Wall Street Banker. Could the two families ever see eye-to-eye? Probably not, is the answer, especially after the Feds burst in a cart the entire cast off to Jail for the night! I predicted that the play would conclude with a philosophical monologue by the Grandpa, but instead we were treated to a dialogue between the Grandpa and the Wall Street Banker, with interjections from a house-guest who happened to be the cousin of the deposed Russian Tsar (and cafe waitress)! It probably spoke louder in it's time, but had an uncanny resonance considering the current turmoil on Wall St. Most importantly, it turned out to be warmly entertaining, and executed with a genuine enthusiasm that tends to exude from amateur groups. My favorite part was probably when the Russian dance instructor informs the Wall Street man that he has the perfect build for wrestling, then immediately leaps across the the room, tackles the unsuspecting banker and pins him to the floor to prove his point. Physical comedy is timeless!
Saturday, August 30, 2008
A day by the river
Since my cycling adventurer turned out to be brief, we had time for some riparian recreation. I had seen on the news that river levels had recovered enough for Richmond to lift compulsory water usage restrictions, so it seemed fair to assume the stream may be running at a more refreshing temperature ("bath water" best describes recent conditions). We headed down to our exclusive lot on Riverside Drive hoping to paddle out to some rocks and take a dip. To our surprise we were met with 6 ft river levels, which made for tough canoeing and scarce rocks to alight on. So once again my best laid plan went agley.
The occasion was still pleasant enough. After a liberating bathe in something resembling beef stew we sat in the shade of a tree a reviewed high literature (Personally I'm reading an easy-going novel about a circus animal keeper).
Hitting the trails
It's a holiday weekend so I finally have some time to do whatever I please. With that in mind I dug my neglected mountain bike out of the shed and hit buttermilk trail. I lasted about 30 minutes before the humidity got the better of me! That was already enough time for me to take a small tumble. Hey, I'd drawn blood so could chalk it up as a successful ride - no need to continue!
It was like riding in a rainforest out there. The recent rain hadn't made the ground too muddy, but every root was slick with moisture. I am horribly out of practice, and frankly not as fit as I thought I was. Somehow I just couldn't find any momentum. In a brave effort at mind-over-body I attacked a relatively smooth uphill section, arriving at the top gasping for air and melting with sweat. My body signaled a surrender, so I emptied a bottle of water over my head and took the road route back to the truck.
This being my third summer I had believed that I had acclimatized to the heat and humidity. In fact I had just learned to take it easy. While I was sitting on a rock, two thirty-something ladies came past me, looking as right as rain. They kept a steady pace, and knew when the terrain was beyond them, calmly dismounting until they could ride again.
Still, fall is almost upon us (we had a preview for most of last week) and the weather will be more to my liking. Until then, I'm sticking to yoga!
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Bragging Rights
I don't brag on here often, do I? Well, this time we are particularly proud of our hard work (ever though it doesn't look like much). I'm not very familiar with American house-building methods, but the idea seemed to be that boards were nailed over insulation, and then batons nailed over the seams to create a decently weatherproof outer wall. The boards was already been put up and whitewashed, so it was up to us to get some baton-work completed.
I sized up the job at hand, and quickly decided we would need a chop-saw and a nail gun. We had a dodgy hammer (I was convinced the head would come off at any moment, probably as it was bring swung back towards the face), so cheese nails and Skil saw. At least it was something. I was pleased to see that if I should accidentally snag the cord of the saw, I wouldn't be the first.
We began by working out some trim around the window. Peter explained that it would be nice the mimic the trim on the original house, with the horizontals extending 3/4" beyond the uprights. Since we we working with 1x3, our efforts were never going to be elegant, but we were instructed to to whatever we thought best. Once the window was framed we began on the batons under the window. We thought it would be plain sailing, but the boards underneath we not even, and all the batons were warped or bent, and would bounce as you tried to nail, effectively dissipating all the energy you were throwing at the nail! We persevered and achieved what we could before the threat of heat-stroke forced us to go in search of beer.
On the second day we shored up some of our previous work with additional nailing, and worked out some trick angled pieces under the eaves. I'm not going to say it was pretty, but (most of) the them fit snugly, and close to vertical. As for the others...I believe they call it caulk over here...
We may have only got a small corner done, but y'know, there was eating and drinking and catching up to do too! Photos of all are on Flickr
Highland County a year on
Despite our promises to return on a regular basis, it had been a full year since we visited our friends and family in Highland county. Peter kindly invited us for another weekend of physical labour, good food and great views. Oh, and did I mention the delightful company: Blakes, Blanchards, Byrds, Scotts, an the rest of us hangers-on.
We arrived just in time for lunch on Saturday, but were swiftly put to work after a bite to eat. Kristal and I were tasked with adding the batons to the siding on the rear addition. It was hot work in the afternoon sun, and we gradually grew tired of bending nails, our grips on the hammers foiled by sweat. The lure of the creek overcame us.
Back Creek was suffering from a historic low, but the water was still refreshing (and so were the beers). When we got back to the house, preparations for dinner began. Relatives and neighbours soon arrived bearing coolers and trays of beans, potato salad, beets and deserts. Somehow Bob and I were elected for grill duty, and we did our best to cook 24 ears of corn and as many sausages on a small gas grill! Everything turned out pretty good, and the eating was fine as always. Soon the stars were out and it was time to retire to the tent.
On Sunday we grabbed a quick breakfast (more sausage!) and took a hike in the hills at the back of the house. I had a bit of energy left to finish the batoning job, then we packed up and head home.
There is something amazingly relaxing about that part of the world. Despite our hard work and inluxurious accomadation, we returned refreshed and uplifted. I can't imagine why we only make it once a year!
Sunday, August 10, 2008
A Real Post about My Family
Here's a lovely portrait of my Mom, Dad and me. It was their last day in the USA, but I daresay we'll be seeing each other often over the next couple of years now that Martha is in Texas.
Saturday, August 09, 2008
My Family and the Alpaca Farm
I want to apologise up front to my parents for only including them on my Blog in a post about Alpacas. My Mom and Dad took us to Buck Ridge Farm, where an extremely talkative lady rears alpacas! Located in Powatan, our host certainly made it worth the gas money with a barrage of information not only regarding the docile camelid but also the tax incentives for farming alpacas and other fascinating details. I certainly found it educational, and enjoyed making friends with some soft furry animals (the dogs were as fluffy as everything else)! After extricating ourselves from a potentially never ending conversation (by this point expanding to goats and tomatoes), we headed into Powatan CH for some lunch, then home.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
The Tides of Change
Why is it impossible to recreate the first time you experience something?
The weekend was spent relaxing on the beaches of the Outer Banks, NC. The weather was fine: occasionally threatening rain, but only so cloudy as to take the sting off the midday sun and keep temperatures pleasant. The water was refreshingly chilly. We were far from the only cats on the beach, but never had any problem securing a spot for our chairs. We sunbathed, swam, read, ate, drank, and were merry.
But it wasn't anything like the first time. The first time, OBX felt like a coastal wilderness like I had never experienced back home. I'd had an idea that people escaped to places like this, camping in the dunes and cooking tuna over an open campfire on the beach. Now here was I, feeling a million miles from home and loving it.
So perhaps its not OBX that has changed, but me. And of course if you visit at the end of September, hitting the beach around dinner time, then it's easy to forget that such a majority of the population of the East Coast and beyond (we saw a lot of Quebec plates this time) treat OBX as their Summer playground.
It's heartbreaking to see a beach full of F250's. There's really no reason for it. For an avid fisherman I can see the benefit in him taking his jeep to the surf with all his tackle and bait and supplies for the day. A family on a beach trip need to park the truck in the parking lot, hand the beach chairs to Junior and start walking. The Environmentals are doing what they can to protect the wildlife, but making themselves hugely unpopular in the process. As a chemist all I see is the residue left behind. Hundreds of vehicles carrying material from the roadway onto the sand, laying down a blanket of Carbon monoxide, complex hydrocarbons and trace precious metals. I was always taught that the beach was a vulnerable environment by dint of its nature as a transition from sea to land.
Of course I respect the rights of visitors to recreate on the beach, but as with all things, with rights come responsibility, and little responsibility is being exercised by most of the visitors. What disappoints me is that as the people who have been visiting the area for decades complain about the erosion of their rights, they fail to realize how they have not kept up on their responsibilities to be examples of how to treat the environment with respect, to educate other visitors about the fragility of the beach and it's inhabitants, to exercise a little frugality and not abuse the resources that the barrier islands hold. Having completely ignored these vital roles, now they only have bad things to say of the legislators and civil servants working to do what they didn't do themselves. No, you can't fish from the beach around the inlet, because where the trucks used to be sparsely dotted along the waterline, they are now wing-mirror to wing-mirror. The traffic along the dunes rivals Highway 12. The Oystercatchers and turtles want just a sliver of their home to call their own.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Origami 001
While in Boston we stopped in some cool shops along Beacon street, including a puzzle and game store. I picked up a book called 3-D Geometric Origami: Modular Polyhedra by Ron Gurkewitz and Bennett Arnstein.
I've managed some simple models that required fewer than 10 pieces, and that start with standard origami squares. Not sure if I'm ready to tackle the 20 piece Triangle Module Dodecahedron yet!
Chocolate Mint Tea
Kristal's Mom gave me a few Chocolate Mint rootings when we were starting our gardens. It has done rather well just outside our front door, so I attempted to make tea today. I took enough stems to give me a loose handful of leaves, and brewed them in just-off-the-boil water for about half an hour. I then diluted it down to double the volume an ended up with about a quart. It's rather nice. It doesn't taste overpoweringly minty. In fact it doesn't taste of much at all at first, but leaves a delightfully refreshing feeling in your mouth!
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Happy Fourth of July!
Just got back from an awesome trip to Boston with Kristal, Chris and Rowie for Independence Day. Chris really wanted to make an appearance on my Blog, so here he is!
We:
Took a tour of Richmond
Went Canoeing on the James
Shot handguns at the range
Drove to Boston
Ate Thai food
Heard the Declaration of Independance
Saw the USS Constitution fire a 21 gun salute
Went to the original 'Cheers' bar
Went round the corner to 'Sevens'
Walked down the Esplanade
Played Uno in an Irish Bar
Ate Fried Dough
Watched the Fireworks
Visited the NE Aquarium
Ate Dim Sum in China town
Tried bubble tea
Toured Beacon Street
Ate wood oven baked pizza
Drank in the Replica 'Cheers' bar
Drank some more in a cool bar with live music
Got lost on the way back to the Hostel
Visited the MIT Museum
Visited the Harvard Natural History Museum
Ate all we could eat at Fire and Ice
Sat in a park
Drove back to Richmond
Stopped at the Statue of Liberty
The Photos are on my flickr.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Churrascaria
OK, time for a food post.
Since Kristal and I moved in together we have tried to limit the number of times we eat out each week. The effect of this has been to greatly expand the variety of dishes we prepare at home. Especially with the new grill, we have been dining in style at a fraction of the cost of restaurant fare. While I occasionally miss the popcorn shrimp at Outback, $10 of steak from the grocery store and a bottle of marinade will feed us for dinner and the next day's lunch and taste just as good (if not better). The only establishment we frequent now is our sushi restaurant (where we are considered patrons). We have discovered the secret to getting a lot of food for a small price, and rarely buy alcohol there (the tea is too nice).
Last night, beyond our wildest expectations, we weren't in a sushi mood. There was nothing to eat in the house save ground beef. Searching the internet was turning up few possibilities for new places to visit, and we ended up driving around Innsbrook in search of a place I thought I saw once...figuring we'd end up a Cheesecake Factory (their extensive menu is bound to have something that tickles our taste buds). In our meandering we came across the Ipenema Grill. It looked....expensive. But for whatever reason our curiosity get the upper hand and we started on a wonderful adventure of meat.
I have no idea what they eat in Brazil. The images that come to mind are beaches, slums and the rain forest. None of those landscapes include a restaurant of any kind. It turns out that the most popular style of dining is the Churrascaria. The service is Rodizio - a kind of all you can eat buffet, in which the meat is circulated on giant skewers by a team a waiters wielding equally huge carving knives. The Prix fixe was reasonable, so we agreed not to bolt for the door...
Before you accept any meat, the practice is to visit the salad bar (also providing side dishes). In hindsight, it is unsurprising that the food has a distinctly Mediterranean flavor; after all, Brazil was colonized by Portuguese, Italians and others, including some of Middle Eastern origin. For whatever reason, it felt slightly Greek, perhaps because of the ubiquity of olives!
On returning to the table, one flips a small acrylic sign from red to green, and the men arrive bearing carnivore heaven. The host mentioned ten type of meat. I tried to keep track, but as the meat-coma set in and my cognitive powers receded, counting to ten became a bridge too far. This is as much as I can dredge from my subconscious: smoked sausage, chicken wrapped in bacon, sirloin, tenderloin, pork ribs, lamb, and the roasted pineapple. All the meat is cooked in a South American barbecue style known as Churrasco, originating with the Gaucho cowboys. As far as I can tell, the key to everything Brazilian is lime juice. Everything was incredibly moist, tender and tasty.
I have to try a local beer whenever I can, and Ipanema offered Xingu. All I'll say is I may never drink another Guinness. Well, of course I will, but every time I do I'll think of Xingu.
Since Kristal and I moved in together we have tried to limit the number of times we eat out each week. The effect of this has been to greatly expand the variety of dishes we prepare at home. Especially with the new grill, we have been dining in style at a fraction of the cost of restaurant fare. While I occasionally miss the popcorn shrimp at Outback, $10 of steak from the grocery store and a bottle of marinade will feed us for dinner and the next day's lunch and taste just as good (if not better). The only establishment we frequent now is our sushi restaurant (where we are considered patrons). We have discovered the secret to getting a lot of food for a small price, and rarely buy alcohol there (the tea is too nice).
Last night, beyond our wildest expectations, we weren't in a sushi mood. There was nothing to eat in the house save ground beef. Searching the internet was turning up few possibilities for new places to visit, and we ended up driving around Innsbrook in search of a place I thought I saw once...figuring we'd end up a Cheesecake Factory (their extensive menu is bound to have something that tickles our taste buds). In our meandering we came across the Ipenema Grill. It looked....expensive. But for whatever reason our curiosity get the upper hand and we started on a wonderful adventure of meat.
I have no idea what they eat in Brazil. The images that come to mind are beaches, slums and the rain forest. None of those landscapes include a restaurant of any kind. It turns out that the most popular style of dining is the Churrascaria. The service is Rodizio - a kind of all you can eat buffet, in which the meat is circulated on giant skewers by a team a waiters wielding equally huge carving knives. The Prix fixe was reasonable, so we agreed not to bolt for the door...
Before you accept any meat, the practice is to visit the salad bar (also providing side dishes). In hindsight, it is unsurprising that the food has a distinctly Mediterranean flavor; after all, Brazil was colonized by Portuguese, Italians and others, including some of Middle Eastern origin. For whatever reason, it felt slightly Greek, perhaps because of the ubiquity of olives!
On returning to the table, one flips a small acrylic sign from red to green, and the men arrive bearing carnivore heaven. The host mentioned ten type of meat. I tried to keep track, but as the meat-coma set in and my cognitive powers receded, counting to ten became a bridge too far. This is as much as I can dredge from my subconscious: smoked sausage, chicken wrapped in bacon, sirloin, tenderloin, pork ribs, lamb, and the roasted pineapple. All the meat is cooked in a South American barbecue style known as Churrasco, originating with the Gaucho cowboys. As far as I can tell, the key to everything Brazilian is lime juice. Everything was incredibly moist, tender and tasty.
I have to try a local beer whenever I can, and Ipanema offered Xingu. All I'll say is I may never drink another Guinness. Well, of course I will, but every time I do I'll think of Xingu.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
New Rubber
The 8000 mile service is complete! I did the oil, filter and plug changes myself, then took it to the shop for new tires. I was thinking about saving up for some pimpin' Metzeler touring rubber, but then found a large chunk of metal embedded in my rear tire and had to accelerate the process. I think the stock tires will do just fine.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Motorcycle News
I dropped a bike for the first time in my life on Saturday. I had to work in the morning, and was in a rush to get out of there! In my haste I lost my balance backing out of a parking space on a slope. I've always said that I'm the type of person who know when an accident is unavoidable and concentrates on minimizing the consequences. True to my form I made virtually no attempt to keep the bike upright, instead my focus was trained on putting my machine down gently. The outcome? It landed on the clutch lever which bent like so much cheese then snapped neatly in half. No paint damage. No broken mirrors, no scratched mufflers. I was still pretty mad at myself. It was scorchingly hot and I was stripping off my gear as I tried to stand the bike up. In the end I relented and sought help from a petite workmate who in fact made all the difference. After pumping the gas out of the flooded cylinders and carbs I was back on the road. Holding on to the clutch at a red light was agony, but the bike shifted much better having more lever travel.
I picked up some sweet chrome levers off eBay, and fitted they this evening. They look pimpin'! However, I'm now back to rough shifting as the lever hits the bar. I've adjusted the cable as much as I can without the clutch slipping, so I'll just have to see how it goes.
Gas Grill!
To celebrate my being in the USA for two year, Kristal acquired me a gas grill. A work friend of hers had no further use for it, so it came for free. It wasn't in very good shape, so I sanded down all the wood and metal, stained or spray painted as appropriate and generally cleaned it up. The worst job was getting the spider nests out of the gas lines. Apparently no one sells pipe cleaners anymore (people just buy Drano) so I had to buy a 99c wire bristle toilet brush and make a few alterations. After much sweat and bloody knuckles I finally had it clean enough that gas didn't get backed up and create a fireball around the taps!
The weather is awesome for grilling right now. Yesterday was burger night - tonight we had sausages. Maybe tomorrow I'll do chicken kebabs....
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