Rachael Ray Sauce

I'm cooking with my daughter and she tells me that someone should change the name of Extra Virgin Olive Oil to Rachael Ray Sauce. When I point out that Olive Oil is not only extremely appropriately named, it's also been around for a long time and seems to be doing pretty well as is. Undaunted, she points out that everyone also knows Rachael Ray and that she says EVOO all the time on her show and she always follows saying EVOO by saying it's Extra Virgin Olive Oil and she could save a lot of time if she could just call it Rachael Ray Sauce and everyone would know what she was talking about because it would say EVOO on it too... Yes, Gio often talks without punctuation and sometimes without breathing. At any rate, faced with the incredible onslaught of words, I had to back down. A few days after this, I'm walking through Macy's and sure enough... Yes, Rachael Ray's EVOO Olive Oil... I shit you not. Here...

In your kitchen

We're starting our kitchen remodel and expect the contractor to begin demolition on Wednesday. Because putting in a kitchen requires no less than 11ty Billion decisions before you can get started, it's actually taken almost 2 years to get to this point. And, quite honestly, I've had it already. Why in the name of all that is holy can't I just go into a Kitchen store, point and say; "I'll take it." nope, not with this insidious band of optioneers. We must decide the layout, the floors, countertops, cabinets, hardware, drawer types, appliances, shelves, drawer add-ons, windows, doors, door hardware, lighting placement, lighting fixtures, cabinet finish, cabinet wood, and, door type... we're almost done with the choices so we can get started.

I was helping my friend move this weekend.

How old do you have to be to stop getting the call to help a friend move? It's older than 38. I'm sore today, but it was worth doing. Not because he is a good friend -- I've stiffed a lot of friends on moving day and they all got over it. It was worth it because after seeing all his shit in total disarray and piled up all over the place it made me realize that I too have way too much shit. I need to go through it all and start dumping stuff in small doses over time -- not wait until the detritus of my life congeals upon a specific time and space to be hauled to the dump or heaved semi-cautiously into a moving van. Besides, if I get rid of all the crap I have now, I can get other-more-better crap to put in it's place.

Wake Me Up When September Ends

This weekend we were driving to the hardware store, discussing the stuff we were going to do to update the kitchen when out of the back seat Alex starts singing the Green Day song. Sure, the lyrics aren't too tough -- unburdened poetic syntax to be sure, but he's four. I don't know how he got to know the song, or why, but certainly it is too much to assume it is talent passed down genetically. Not only can't I remember stuff but my talent for singing lives only in the car with the iPod turned way up.

Giovanna once sang for over 45 minutes. It was a song she made up and apparently was amazing and amusing to the people in the car with her. They, however, are grandparents (although not hers) so contextualize the review.

It now appears that it is incumbent upon me to contact Joe Simpson and find out how to exploit these children for profit.

Until then, if you get a chance to hear a little boy sing Green Day's "Wake Me Up When September Ends" in that soft little voice that only a 4 year old getting ready to drift off to sleep can have, take it. Pure magic. When it's over and he sees that you've been listening he might give you one of those smiles that makes you melt.

rocket@ccnet.com

an amazing thing. This email address was one that I got about 12 years ago. The account is long dead, the company bought out years ago, then bought out again. Each time, the email address was supposed to have died... but alas, I still receive spam to my dear old rocket account at Contra Costa Networks.

Cat Scan

I had another cat scan and will find out on Friday if I need to go in for another knee surgery. Possibly, the continued pain I am having is due to one or more of the screws sticking through my bone and muscle and rubbing against my tendons. Seriously uncomfortable.

Weakness

The wife and I went out on a date last night. It started out as a nice idea, dinner and a movie without the kids. Pretty much the standard night out for a couple of old married folks.

The Pleasant Hill theaters is perfect for us, it is a nice new theater, has a good restaurant across the street. BTW, try Left Bank. And, most importantly, it is very close to my mother-in-law's house. In case we need to make a mad dash to a child-based emergency, we are only 5 minutes away.

This time out we found out that they had put up a Fat Burger between the theater and Left Bank. Now, truth be told, the French have proven almost useless... I say almost because the Frog Bastards still have all that "culture" shit. You know, the food, wine and clothes... Shit like that. True, all three are fairly "chick getting" based endeavors, but if you gotta pick one thing to make a stand on, it might as well be that, and God and NATO knows they haven't made a stand on anything else recently. Anyway, I digress... If you haven't had a FatBurger, you need to try one. They are very good... Especially when decked out as a Double King Burger with Cheese and Bacon... Yes. Dear Lord, when they go for the roto-rooter job in my chest, the extra 20 minutes of scraping will be for the double bacon cheese burger. And, it will have been worth it. I do feel guilty, not because of the burger (I'm only a Man, and a relatively weak one at that), because of the Chili-Fries. They are so far away from healthy, they don't even appear on the Department of Agriculture food pyramid. They do show up on the DEA site right between Heroin and Morphine. Long story short, I ate all the fries then sat through a very funny movie while the sweet, sweet poison coursed through my arteries. Now, a day later, I ask myself... who would be so cruel as to put another fine burger place so near me? Who?!? Could it be... Satan?

Spam is really getting out of control.

I just deleted a spam comment from my blog. This isn't big news, there are a lot of spammers and blogs are a place where eyeballs congregate, but why my blog? I have exactly, um, let me count... yes, 0, a big fat zero -- no readers. Hell, I barely even read this. I feel a little bad for the spammer that pulled the short straw and had to hit me. Tomorrow, when he is fired for not getting any response from his "online marketing program", he'll be robbing a bum.

Dead, dead, dead.

My laptop is dead. It was made in 2001, there is no surprise that it died, and luckily, the data has been saved. Now I must shop for a new one or see if this one can be repaired. What a pain in the ass.

I rock

All the stuff on the list this weekend (including the dump run) has been finished. And, I still had time to go out and get drunk with the Wife and some friends last night. I'm especially happy that when cleaning out my closet I found my portable DVD burner -- all that "extra stuff" off my work computer can finally be taken care of. Tomorrow, maybe a trip to the DMV to register the motorcycle...