Easter

Amongst those of the Christian persuasion, Easter always seems to bring out the most self-inspection. The elephant following us around seems to be the question of am I worthy of Christ's sacrifice. A lot of people will beat themselves up over this (sometimes literally as in look up Filipino flagellants) and I think this misses the point.
I am no prophet but something I believe is that God's lessons are where you look for them. Metaphor of true principles can be found in watching a seed grow, the sun rise, and a wound heal. Meaning can be found even in cleaning up after a sick child has thrown up in bed in the middle of the night. I think that instead of trying to engineer my own experience on a given holiday to match some imaginary ideal of what that experience should be like, A better approach is to spend more time interpreting the lessons already before me. The great part of this is that I don't have to wait for a day or time, the moment I seek is ready for me when I am ready to receive it.
So, in confession, I did not spend a lot of time planning and executing the perfect Easter experience with morning services, meditative thought and doctrinal exploration. I visited with family because we love each other, we hunted for eggs and ate candy because it is fun, played at the beach because we are here and the weather is wonderful and tonight, as we prayed together as a family, my son added a special thanks to God for having such a great day and asked that we can have another great day tomorrow. There was no prompting on my part and it matters little if he thought the best part of the day was the family, candy or beach; he took time to thank God for it and that is a lesson he found on his own.

King of the Road

It has been a while, so in the interest of fresh content I present pictures from our recent Pinewood derby.

Here the cubscouts are lined up to race their cars. We also had a more 'open' division for everyone to participate. We had about 18 cars in the open class which seemed to go on forever. But in the end, Patrick's car took the blue ribbon. Yes, yes I am quite proud and all and Patrick was very pleased as well as surprised. I wish we had gotten a shot of all the cars lined up but hopefully we will have as nice a turnout next year.

Cheryl made this cake with a nifty cake pan. The cub scouts got to pick which car they wanted all to themselves. We also had a commercial popcorn maker on-site which made it really festive and left the aroma of popcorn in the air for a couple of days.

Turn in my Man Card

I am somewhat annoyed. Blogging has become the realm of women. I am talking here about the personal blog and not the pseudo-blogs which serve only as a platform to promote or review products or serve as a soapbox for an agenda. One might ask, 'What is wrong with that?' Well, nothing really at least on the surface. I like women. Generally, they can be at least as intelligent, articulate, thoughtful and witty as men and what they write is interesting. The problem is that while I enjoy keeping up with people I know by reading their blogs, I keenly feel the pressure of social mores that, as a man, I am somehow spying into a cyber hen party. I'll read someones recollection of a trip they took or a birthday party that will spark a response but I stop short at the thought of being an unwelcome intruder.

I know that this is all so very illogical. One should expect that when posting your thoughts online, the world will see and possibly respond. I know this and yet I still feel like a lurking voyeur.

What is to be done about it? Reassurance from fellow bloggers probably won't do much. What else can they say about a publicly posted journal except that all are invited to read and comment. Similarly, just 'getting over it' hasn't really worked so far either. Logical argument? No; tried that one already. I believe that the only thing that may cure my petty angst is to see more postings and comments from the Y chromosome demographic. I'm not looking for competition so much as participation. Many of these blogs style themselves as 'family' blogs and yet are maintained by only a fraction of that family. Alas, the likelihood of this plea reaching my target audience is nil because, guess what, it is a blog post and most men do not read blogs.

Christmas Eve - Florida Style

Christmas Eve is a little different in Florida. For one, it was in the mid 70s today with a bright sun and light breeze carrying the smell of late blooming Azaleas and Spanish moss. Next door to my mom's house is a neighbor who flys the Stars and Bars of the Confederate States of America (not the more famous starred blue saltire cross which is called the Confederate battle flag). Look it up if you are interested in some history you won't read about in school. Let me take a moment and say two things. First, I would like to think that anyone reading this can make the basic distinction between an acknowledgement of historic facts and any sort of endorsement of racist ideology but for those of you who cannot, let me simply say that I cannot help you. Second, for those of you reading this who live in Florida, we apologize as we could not shave out the time to see you but we do still love you very much.

We did swing through Gainesville today to see the semi-famous bat house. Currently home to approximately more than 100,000 small bats that leave their abode at dusk to seek out meals of the insect variety. They trickle out at first but eventually start to swarm out.


More appetizing than insects, I cooked up some swamp cabbage. It is made from the tender parts of the heart of the palm. Add some bacon (which makes everything better) and cook it like cabbage. I even made the kids try this integral part of the heritage. They made noises as they sometimes do but so far no one has died.


My mom always has a beautiful tree. If you look closely you can see the angel Moroni as the tree topper.





Not much else to say except, Merry Christmas everyone.

Phoenix Rising

Phoenix is an enormous city. I’m also including in this statement the ‘Greater Phoenix Area’ of Scottsdale, Mesa, Tempe, Sun City, and all the other burbs and townships indistinguishable to me from one another. I’m sure to the trained eye of a local there are clear delineations but I just don’t see them.

Another exciting and obvious fact is that Phoenix is in the Desert. Grass is rare and the medians, road sides and many front lawns sport so called desertscapes complete with Cacti and sandy pink gravel. It’s hot as well. Here I am in October with temperatures at home in the 40s and Phoenix is starting to cool off into the 80s. Don’t let them tell you it is a dry heat either because it is still just plain hot.

It is beautiful however. Clear blue skies hang over the aforementioned desertscapes as well as golf courses and mountains plopped down in the midst of the urban sprawl with seeming abandon. These mountains (hills really I guess) provide many scenic views to those willing to scale them. Near to the hotel I am staying in, a city park has been established amongst a few of these hills/mountains. I went out one early morning for a quick hike and brought my camera along. I have attached pictures below.

Get 'em Hot

In the South, along almost every road and byway you will see humble stands or shacks proclaiming to have Hot Boiled Peanuts. The spellings vary widely and nothing adheres to conventional laws such as building or food handling codes. Business is cash only and receipts rare but everyone walks away happy.

Pronounced somewhere between Bowled and Bold, these luscious legumes are a integral taste of the south from the Carolinas to Florida to Louisiana. More of an outside or picnic delicacy, the best method of consumption is to give the end a small bite to split the seam and slurp any juice out, crack the rest of the shell off and gobble the soft nuts. Sometimes the nuts stay together and sometimes they split with the shell but as long as you don’t drop them, they both taste good.

Living in Indiana, I have been missing these for some time until I finally decided to give it a try. Recipe wise it cannot get any easier. You need a large pot, water, peanuts and salt. Peanuts are properly boiled in brine which means a pretty good bit of salt. I would also suggest some kind of non-iodized salt given the amount used. I didn’t measure how much salt I used but if I had to guess, it was probably about 3/4 cup of salt to a gallon of water. Nothing scientific about it, just make it salty. The peanuts I got were called ‘Raw’ which is a slight variation from how this is normally done. Generally, the peanut vendors buy them in what is called ‘green’ state. Unlike other vegetables, ‘green’ peanuts are already ripe but remain somewhat unwashed (these are in the ground remember) and retain some of the root tendrils. For them, the process starts with washing the nuts and picking out the roots and chaff. For me, that had already been done but the snag was that they were dryer than I had anticipated. Given the choice, I probably would have opted for ‘green’ for authenticity but my choices here in the North are limited. I had the perfect pot though; I had decided to use my turkey fryer setup which turned out to be a champion idea. Turn the gas on, light it and set it to boil. As dry as the nuts where, they floated at first so I took a straining basket that fit the pot and weighted it with a relatively clean rock to press them into the water. I don’t know if this really helped but it made me feel better. Fast forward 5 – 6 hours and they seemed to be about right. They were still kind of al-dente but it worked for us on a first attempt.

The smell and taste is a flood of memories of football games, days at the springs and road trips to the stereo sound of slurping. Boiled peanuts can be enjoyed alone but are much better with company. I had also cooked some cabbage which goes nicely with it and invited some people over. For the full on Floridian treatment, I should have had swamp cabbage (heart of palm prepared like regular cabbage) but it was still a great time.

I think next time I’ll soak the peanuts overnight like dried beans and then add the salt and boil. I imagine it will take less boil time. I might get ambitious and add some spices like garlic or some chili peppers but that isn’t for everyone. Caution, consumption of boiled peanuts may result in speaking in a southern drawl and a desire to sit for a spell on the front porch watching the trucks go by.

Get Fit

My birthday was this Wednesday and as a gift, I got the Wii Fit Plus. The term feature rich was coined for a device such as this. I feel like an infomercial guru every time I start talking about it. I’ve only scratched the surface of all the variations of games/exercise/yoga posses it has. In short order, all of the family including the cat were registered. Unfortunately, the cat cannot exercise with the Wii. I would have loved to see the cat on the ski jump, they land on all fours don’t they?

The rest of us slobs were told our ‘real’ age. I have to say that I think the science behind ‘real’ age is suspect. Height/Weight charts are bad enough but telling someone they are older or younger based on health parameters is kind of like saying that everyone, EVERYONE, should drop dead on their 95th birthday like some kind of cable service cutoff date. So on my 36th birthday apparently I am ‘really’ 39. Not bad considering that Cheryl is very put out that her ‘real’ age is 41. Abby was confirmed to be a practically perfect 4 but the other kids were told that they could drive and pay taxes.

The big thing the Fit stresses is balance. At the risk of sounding prideful, I have pretty good balance. I’m not a tight rope walker (mostly it’s the height thing) but I can keep from falling off a slow moving skateboard. So far I am the champion ski jumper and Segway racer but I’m sure the rest will catch up.

This isn’t really a game review so suffice it to say we are having fun with it. Otherwise the birthday went well with family phone calls and a meal including Brats, Kraut, Carrot cake and Root Jack, a pirate themed orange flavored root beer. I found a place locally that stocks it and have been fighting temptation ever since.

The weather has turned cold and remains soggy so I don’t know how much longer I can keep running outside. Cheryl will be doing a half marathon Tomorrow but I’m just not on that level yet so will be home with the kids. It will be down in Indy so maybe a little warmer weather. I guess I prefer the cold to the hot summer days.