Wednesday, December 31, 2008

He said that he reads too much. I said that I don't think someone can read too much

He was carrying a bouquet of paper flowers, looking around calling for Santa. I watched as he tried to sell phony flora to some of the large tourist crowd.

I know his as Sammy. I was first made aware of Sammy as he was being poked to make sure he was still alive as he was lying by the dumpster one rainy day; I was sitting in my usual place in the bar and when the back door opened, I can see the dumpster.

He lost Santa in the crowd and I was just about to point him out to Sammy when he made eye contact with me and said “Hey, how you doing man?” I didn’t know if he knew me or not, I’ve certainly passed by him enough times to be remembered as he held a cup.

He started his sales pitch to me only it was slightly modified; he added that he was just tying to sell some things but that no one was buying. The bouquet must have taken some time to fold. I’ve made those origami orchards myself, there are a lot of folds.

I shook off the flowers. He then reached into his plastic bag and pulled out some drawings done in colored pencils. The subjects were mostly still life’s, mounted on cardboard.

The reached into my pocket and peeled off a five and offered it to him, “He seeing how you’re a friend of Shawn’s here you go.”

Shawn’s the manager at the bar, he the one that did the poking. He’s also the one that brought in some no-longer-needed clothes for Sammy a week after the poking incident and ever since Shawn has kept a casual eye on him.

“My name’s Samuel, but they call me Sammy. Samuel Samson. It’s a biblical name.” I smiled and said “Yes it is.” All his drawings where crudely signed Samuel. He didn’t want to take a handout, he wanted me to buy a drawing and asked me to choose one. I should have just bought one but instead, I told him that the money was for pencils. He took the five and said, “I do need pencils.”

He then went on to tell me that he doesn’t believe in reincarnation and that if they ever find a cure for aids or cancer that then there would be some other killer disease that would come about. He even swore it to God.

I told him that I was glad that he’s doing good work and he replied that he can do good as long as he doesn’t drink. I then told him that that was true of everyone, even myself. I think he then said something about aliens growing in people’s testicles.

I tried to pay attention to Samuel while I kept an eye on Santa but at some point in the conversation, Santa slipped away.

Sammy told me that he prays to God every day and he asks why the wicked prosper while good people die. I wondered how I was ever going to end the interaction.

Eventually, he walked away while he wished that God would bless me for the rest of my life. I wished that I had taken some pictures.

Often, I’m like: “I’ve got nothing to say.”

The advertising was due a day early because of the New Year so not surprisingly I did the ads early. When I got back home, I heard the tenant call out: “Hello?” It really was more of a question than an exclamation or just a regular statement. I answered likewise only mine wasn’t a question. She was outside an unused room of mine that’s opposite the washer and dryer. She has permission to use my washer and/or dyer because I’m a nice guy but I wondered why she was there.

“Umm, there’s a raccoon up here. A rather big one,” is how she continued. I walked up the stairs and looked into the room, there’s no electricity hooked up in that room because I haven’t finished wiring it yet. All I have to do is wiring a cable into a junction box in the basement but it never seems to make it to the top of my to-do list. One of the things that did make it to the to-do list was sticking insulation in over the ceiling of this vacant room which necessitated removing some of the ceiling, so there is whole the length of the room and the width of between two joists.

I couldn’t see anything in the darkened room, so I fetched the flashlight that I keep by my TV. The room isn’t exactly unused because I have it cluttered with tools and extra building materials. So finding him wasn’t as simple as looking in an empty room but sure enough, there was indeed a raccoon in the room and he must have been the shy variety because when I shined the light on him he climbed up the wide window trim. I assumed he was trying to get back out the same way he fell in but he couldn’t quite reach.

Next to the window were some 2 by 4’s and some of the 2x4’s were actually 2x6’s and 2x8’s; he tried to use these as well to get back to the hole in the ceiling but they weren’t angled the right way. He certainly seemed like he didn’t want to be in my living space but he was uncertain as to how to get the hell out of my living space. I left the room and barricaded one flight of stairs with a piece of sheetrock and used two folding chairs and a four foot laddered placed on its side to discourage him from running anywhere else in the house. I then opened the door that leads to the roof of the first floor addition.

I returned to the room and the critter was still hanging on to the top of some 2x4’s so I started removing them one by one. He didn’t like that so much but he was a good sport about it. He didn’t get angry, he just tried to grab onto the next length of wood, sometimes knocking them over. I finally got him down to one piece of wood which I slowly lowered to the floor. Once he was level with the floor he ran out of the room and out the opened door, pretty much just like I had planned. I then restacked the wood and cooked a steakum.

It seemed like a good idea at the time

I overheard her say that it was her anniversary. She then added that her boobs were eight years old.

Bread is mostly about timing and without using the freezer there is usually a three day limit on how long things will last with attention. The third day was yesterday, which left me with five starters. Each starter would make at least two loaves of bread. Ten loaves is a lot.

I still don’t know what I was thinking when I made all those starters. Well, I actually do know what I was thinking; I was thinking “Mmmm bread.” Ten loaves was the low end and it turns out that one of the starters was twice as much as I needed, so that got divided into two batches of dough.

I realized that I was going to have way too many bread products while I was building the first starter into dough, so I decided that I would make all the batches of dough and put half in the refrigerator which will buy me some time.

At the end of the day I had three baguettes, three medium size loaves of ciabatta and two one pound loaves of ciabatta. I used two different recipes for the ciabatta; I was experimenting. In the frig, went enough dough for two loaves of Italian bread and eighteen Kaiser rolls, it will be my first try at both of those.

The baguettes were very nice but I probably could have kept them in the oven longer. The crumb was cooked through and the crust crackled but I felt it could have crackled a little bit more. The large loaves of ciabatta were denser than I like but were still good to eat and the smaller loaves of ciabatta were quite good, light and airy.

I had devised a plan on getting rid of some of the bread but the plan involved someone who has already tasted the light and airy loaves of ciabatta so I felt that I couldn’t unload what I felt were inferior loaves on her but I also didn’t want to part with any good loaves but I had too much bread. So, I gave away a baguette and one of the better loaves of ciabatta. What was left at the end of the night included a half of baguette, one large loaf and one small loaf of ciabatta. I always hate wrapping home made, lean dough bread in cling film but I felt that I had no choice.

Little babies don’t frighten me. Big babies irritate me.

It bothers me a little but…
(something work related)

I really don’t care for parties mostly because conversation is not something that I’m good at; I listen and respond. I was there mostly because the owner invited Lady G at the last fund raiser we attended. I probably would have passed on the occasion otherwise. And once I was committed to go I was then instructed to invite my mother.

My mom likes those things and she doesn’t get out much so…

I forget how it happened but I got separated from Lady G; she’s a people person so I usually don’t let her get any further than my elbow, when she’s at my elbow, I merely have to nod. Anyway, someone probably engaged me as we were walking and she went on without me. I grabbed a beer because it made it look like I was relaxing or enjoying myself or at least being a little more social and then went to find my mouthpiece.

I walked into kitchen and found the owner sitting where she usually sits while she’s doing all her business at home, to her right, my mom was standing and to my mom’s right, was Lady G. I must have rolled my eyes a little as they all looked my way as I walked in. I said, “That right there is no good.” I milled about at the other end of the marble topped middle island as they changed whatever subject that had been talking about.

I bought the house an espresso maker. We opened it on the eve and had two cappuccinos apiece. I would have had a third but I had concerns that that would have been excessive. I just want to make espresso drinks all the time now.

At brunch, I ordered the double blueberry pancakes. Lady G leaned over to me and said “But you already ate.” I was at this brunch because when I wasn’t at last year’s, it caused a little bit of a commotion. I hadn’t fretted over missing the previous year because I rather do nothing all day long on Christmas Day, as opposed to getting presentable for the outside world and driving somewhere to eat brunch in a crowded dining establishment. I had told her the previous day that I had two things on my agenda for Christmas Day, one was doing nothing and the other was cooking breakfast. She told me to cook breakfast and that she would call me that day when she found out the time brunch.

What was I to do? Just sit there drinking coffee while everyone else was eating? I certainly wasn’t hungry but I felt it would be rude not to eat. I considered the blueberry pancakes a type of dessert to the breakfast I had already eaten with my family.

I did my best to pace my consumption of the five pancakes with the others around the table with more substantial meals. My pancakes looked like they would be overly sweet, with the blueberry compote spilling over the sides of the top most pancake but that wasn’t the case and the pancakes at the bottom were rather dry. I longed for butter with every bite from the bottom.

There was a month and a half old baby in our group and of course all the females wanted to hold the little tyke. He seemed to refuse to look at the person holding him but would look at the person next or beyond. Lady G was doing her best to get him to look at her and whenever she would turn him so that he would be facing her he would look at me. She finally handed him to me, asking if I knew how to hold a baby.

I cradled him in my left arm so he could get a good look at Lady G. She got him to smile and maybe even laugh but who really knows? At that age babies have trouble doing anything; it’s all a learning process. After a couple minutes she pulled him from my arm as she said, “Don’t get too comfortable with him.”

It takes more than a contented baby to shake my spine of steel.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

I was having a steak and cheese with lettuce and tomato

Few people seemed to care that he was slouched over. He was at a long set of tables in one of the busiest places in a tourist town. At first I thought he was just an old guy that was possibly homeless that had just fallen asleep; then I thought he might be dead.

People were moving all around him, few people paid him any mind. I could only see him when someone shifted in their seat, so I assumed he must have been moving even though I couldn’t see any movement. I was slightly worried that tomorrow I might be reading about how some guy was left, dead, for hours and thousands of people passed him by and how his life might have been saved if only one person did something but then I saw him move.

I then saw him right himself and then lay across three on the short stools and then slowly position his left leg onto the table.

I wondered if his drunkenness was a fairly new turn for him or whether it was old hat. Times are tough.

Eventually security was called. The first to arrive was a skinny young black man, who just walked on over to the guy and jabbed him in the ribs as he told the guy to get up. The old guy was mostly nonresponsive so the security guard tried to hoist him up by his arm. He only managed to slightly spin the guy on the middle stool.

The next to arrive was a security guard that looked a lot like a young John Goodman, only not actually John Goodman when he was young because Goodman wasn’t fat in his younger days. The John Goodman look-alike assisted his partner in getting the guy to his feet. Goodman then quietly explained to the guy that he wasn’t allowed to sleep at the table and that also he couldn’t hang-out in the area while he was intoxicated. Or at least that’s what I thought he was telling him because I couldn’t actually hear what he was saying but I’ve seen this sort of thing before.

The young black security guard still wanted to just haul the guy’s ass on out of there but Goodman was sticking with talking it out. I watched the drunk reach behind into his soiled briefs and tuck then into his falling down pants. He then slowly yanked up his jeans.

I wondered just how freshly soiled his briefs actually were as he reached out for the back of Goodman’s arm before he slightly staggered out the door.

Before the guy even got to the door some young woman and her friend sat right where the drunk was just lying about; she put her plate of food right where the guy's foot had been.

I wondered whose bit of vile I was sitting in.

I usually say "Damn it," when that happens

It’s something to do I guess.

I think it would be nice if I was more diligent with my posts but I really don’t have much to say.

I still find my life all rather uninteresting, but that’s probably only because I’m the one living it, if you were living it then I would have more interest in it.

I finished that e-card. I wrote the code and then tested it and then fixed all the absentminded mistakes I made. With e-cards you have to use the full path name for photos and stuff; which I usually forget.

I was reading Reality Sandwich.

It’s a Brave New World. Feel free to go on without me.

I’ll catch up later if I can muster the interest.

My problem is that: I think I’m great. Not that you would notice it at first because I think I rather kind of ordinary. I think I have the same abilities as the next guy and I think that guy has the same abilities as me, and it really doesn’t matter who I’m standing next to.

If it can be done, I think I can do it – for the most part.

It's a longer short story


That’s what I thought after he said, “A short novel.” It was part of his answer to the question: “What are you writing? A book?”

It’s a fascinating life I live.

I have on too many layers today. I’m wearing a sweater to hide the pit stains on my shirt. It’s a shirt I won’t wear without a sweater. I probably should just throw it away.

In the paper today was a column about how people seem freer to write harsh things in the comment section and I happen to agree that some people are just outright mean in the comments. I don’t mind contrary opinions but there really is no need to be rude.

If any of my face to face friends read this blog they would go tell me to fuck myself in the comments of this post right now. Some of my face to face friends think they are funny.

I was sitting in Police Headquarters at a conference table listening to organizers tell us all that they would like to do. At one point she got up to pass things out to the committee members and when she handed me mine, I could smell the booze on her. I then wondered what functioning adult starts in on the booze at 11am, especially when you have a meeting in Police HQ. I then wished that I could have a drink; a Bloody Mary would have been nice.

It’s twenty past three, forty minutes to go (typed at 3:20pm)

I remember telling some teenager that it was twenty ‘til two and he didn’t know what I meant. If I confused him a little by saying quarter ‘til two then I could understand a little but twenty ‘til two?

I wore my boots in to work today and so far they have set off the metal detector twice. I have passed through them three times.

I’m what you call a finesse player and part of that play is tossing my coffee cups away in such a fashion as that the energy of the throw seems to quit just in time to drop the cup in the trash. It’s more like the coffee cup comes to a gentle rest than being harshly thrown away.

I’m all about peace and love.

Anyway, so I tossed my cup today every so lightly and watched it bounce off the outside which left a little smudge of whipped cream because my coffee was actually one of those fancy drinks from Starbucks.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

my heart just wasn't in it

I would like to say that it was some of my best forgery just because it would make a better story but at best it was only fair.

Saturday, December 13, 2008

I kind of like the swooping 'e'

Sophia Likes to Bite

I took my place against the wall as I waited for my train. It was the place that I usually stand at, only this time it was about five hours later. I had just slipped out on a small gathering that some of us at worked had planned. I made my escape as a small group of us made our way to a sliver of a bar next to the restaurant where we all shared dinner.

The lower level of the bar was crowed so we walked upstairs to the lounge which was equally crowded. I was last in line and started to feel a little claustrophobic. I wanted to bid my adieus but felt that would ruin my plan of leaving so I just left.

I was empty handed as I stood against the wall, because I didn't want to be encumbered with carrying stuff around town. I had no iPod, no paperback book, no notebook, so I stood and watched the people. I first noticed them about half way up the platform, a young couple with their young daughter. The parents seemed taller than average, the wife was attractive and the little girl was cute.

I moved a little to my left to maintain everyone's personal space as they stood in the vacant spot next to me, and I briefly worried that he might think that I'm moving away for some other reason than they looked like they liked their privacy.

They were standing mostly quiet until I heard the father say "Sophia, don't bite." I wanted to look but I didn't want to make it any worse for Sophia; the parents looked like they would hold it against her if she were the cause of unwanted attention.

By the time I turned around, he was squatting and face to face with Sophia and he had an urgency in his voice that belayed more anger than instruction. I wondered how hard she could have bitten him, she was no taller than his mid thigh which would have precluded more sensitive areas.

He further added that hitting wasn't allowed either and then her mother instructed that if she wanted her father's attention then she should say: "Daddy, please play with me." The child indicated that she understood, paused a moment and then said "Daddy, would you please play with me." I turned and stifled a laugh; most kids just want to know the rules.

But after that, I didn't notice anything that resembled play.

I sat across and diagonally from them when we got on the train. The girl sat in the middle, after two stops or so, he lightened up a bit. I think tickling was involved which was followed by a hug and a quick smile. I got the impression that it was more out of duty than affection. It was almost like she was his stepchild, a little constant reminder of a mistake his wife had made but he knew it was wrong to hold any anger against the child.

I sat there there and thought about posting this scene and worried that I would forget that her name was Sophia. I repeated "She's Sophia," to myself a couple times but was a little concerned that the Johnny Walker Blue that I had previous to entering the station would kick in further and erase some details so I pulled an ATM receipt from my pocket and wrote: "Sophia." I then worried that I might forget the story so I added: "likes to bite," but writing on a little hand held receipt while on a moving train is not something I have mastered yet. Also, I knew that I would be the only one reading it, so it only had to be a clue as to what I was trying to write. So, I don't know if she likes to bide or not, but I would guess she does.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Hell probably knows who I am

notes 001

notes 002

When I can't get my mind to focus, I'll go to Staples and browse. One of the last times I was there, I noticed disposable fountain pens. I don't think fountain pens should be throw-aways but I bought them anyway. I wrote these pages with one of them.

I wasn't planning on posting these pages or else I would have written a little bit neater. My plan was to write a little and then fill in the rest electronically.

It turned out that the two ladies were part of a bigger group. I nodded as I left the table.

notes 003

Ray once voiced an idea of a blog with completely hand written posts or something not dissimilar.

Tuesday, December 09, 2008

It reminded me of the value of silence

I should be authoring that e-card.


I knew it would be inconvenient; I didn't know that there would be so many things that would be inconvenient. I took a day off from the day job to handle some of the inconvenient things.

It bothers me when people just stand around making excuses on why they are not doing anything to correct the problem. Most people have similar reasons as the next guy.

Everyone wants a hero but nobody wants to be that hero.


I'm really uninspired about that e-card and I've already designed a postcard and two ads for the property already so all I have to do is convert existing material but...


If this were a v-blog, I would be fading in and out on those e-card messages.


I don't know how fast I can run.

I only know how fast I have run.


I was reading something of Melissa's and it reminded me of the powers of words. Just words, no sights, no sounds, just words that bring you to a place where you can taste it.

Sometimes, when I wish to be mean, I'll say something, short and putrid.

I sometimes wish that I would use my powers for good things.


I was reading the book "Exploring the Elements of Design" and it mentioned that rhythm is defined as an alternating occurrence of sound and silence.

It reminded me of when I heard that there would be nothing good if there wasn't anything bad; there would be no ying without the yang.

It reminded me of the value of silence.

Saturday, December 06, 2008

probably with twins

I took the rest of the day off which equaled half a day and I only took it off because I could; it's that time of year where if you don't use the time you lose the time and I was tired of being a loser.

It was too early for the bar so I stalled around and then went to Godiva. I then went to the bar; it was four minutes past noon.

The waitress greeted me with a smile, just like she always does as I pulled an article from the breast pocket of my coat. It was a story about how happiness is contagious because just the day before she was telling me a theory of hers. The theory was that if we all pretend to be happy then maybe we will be happy.

I thought the article kind of confirmed her theory because if you could trick just one of your friends into thinking you are happy then they would catch your happiness and then you in turn would catch their real happiness.

Whatever, I was mostly just letting her know that I was listening.

I gave the bartender the box of chocolates I got at Godiva because her birthday had been on Monday. I also gave the waitress a small box of chocolates so that the bartender wouldn't feel guilty if she didn't want to share her box.

Later, she did offer to share her box with me.

The P.I. came in and I offered her my seat but she said she would only sit while she was eating and then the seat would be mine again. I protested. She protested my protest. After she finished her lunch she got up. We were both just standing by the chair which caused us to interfere with the travel path of the waitress, so I sat back down. It wasn't an issue to make a scene over.

The insurance agent came in and made her greetings. She settled in at the table behind us where her afternoon boyfriend was sitting. She then squeezed by my shoulder while she ordered her beer from the bar.

After the insurance agent sat down the P.I asked, "Did she say hi to you?" I answered, "Well, I think her right breast made some sort of greeting with my shoulder a few times while she ordered." The P.I. just rolled her eyes.

After the normal rush for lunch, I was the only regular there, so I ordered lunch. About ten minutes later a soup and sandwich came out of the dumbwaiter. "Hey, Timmy. Do you want this?" I don't know how it happened but it was an unwanted order and I was waiting on my boneless buffalo wings. "If you don't want it, it will get thrown away," the bartender said. "We can make you order to go when it comes up, if you are worried about it. If you can't finish, both"

I assured her that I could consume both orders but I was debating on whether I should. I ended up eating both and after I left at four thirty, on my way into the real estate office to print out six hundred raffle tickets, I picked up a steak and cheese sub.

I think I might be pregnant.

Saturday, November 29, 2008


I do carry grudges but because I’m lazy, I set them down rather quickly.

I don’t remember things that I’ve done in the past too well. I figure if I’ve done it, then it’s done. Why would I want to clutter up my valuable brain cells with things that have been settled?

If you say, “Remember when you fixed that table leg for me?” I’ll take a moment to remember but then most likely my answer will still be “No.”

Which brings me to blogging; all my posts are about the past even if they are about the present or the future, they are all based on ideas that have already been in and then out of my brain. Everything I type starts to gather dust the moment I hit the post button.

I have no problems with the past, the past can be of great value. I try to learn from the past; but I don’t dwell there, or at least not too much.

And that is why I think I don’t post too much sometimes.

I have a problem with taking photos, too. I find it had to be a part of an event when I’m taking photos of that event. The camera is a barrier between the photo taker and the event. The party is always in front of the camera.

I had my camera

I'm not certain why I did not frame the shot better.


I look at what I do and all I see is everything that I want to change

Friday later that same day

(written Friday but written about something further in the past)

I started the process at one in the morning and at five thirty, six loaves of bread where sitting on the cooling racks. My mom needed the oven at six to commence with over cooking the turkey.

I went back to bed and stayed there until I got tired of just laying about, it was nine. I then drove to the real estate office to try and complete those booklets that were due the next day. I had managed to complete the additional fifteen covers at home, what was left were the ten pages for the inside.



There was a little bit of waiting involved and I wondered about my redundant systems. I have a laminator in my office and at home, same as my identical inkjet printers, scanners and computers with the same applications. I thought that it’s a lot of money. I also thought it was good to have duplicate systems because I would rather wait for print jobs sipping Newman’s Royal Tea at home watching the History Channel than surfing for porn in the office.



I had to go into the office because I don’t have a color laser printer at home, at least not yet.

At twelve, I heard someone at the front door. It was the owner of the company. I went downstairs to check the printer and spoke to her a bit. She said that she would have some treats for me later. I then handed her a large lunch bag containing two loaves of bread.



She took one out and asked who baked them as she held the bottom of it to her nose. When I told her that I did, she said, “You’re unbelievable.”



I still felt ordinary and every bit quite believable.






I wrote this on: Friday, November 28, 2008

The train was empty. I sat and read one of the local papers and then read the Metro. I skip over both sports sections.

I can see the building where I work from the subway station and what I saw this time where flashing lights; as I approached the few people milling about where saying that they weren’t letting people in. I was okay with that news.


I had a dollar and some change in my pocket, it wasn’t enough for a coffee. I usually get cash, fee free, from the ATM at work, the next closest ATM without a fee was a block and a half away. I may have cursed a little.


I got my coffee and waited as the repercussions of a small electrical fire where taken care of; I was at my desk a half later than usual.

It was a slow news day.

I wrote this also on Tuesday, November 25, 2008

It's just a curiosity thing.

It was a busy night. I had to get the advertising out and I was trying to finish a booklet for someone’s sixtieth birthday. I was dividing my time between each when she walked in.

I have to be careful where I set my eyes with her because she has a few places that I wouldn’t mind looking at or at least that is what I think because I haven’t had a chance to look yet without being caught.

All that I can tell you is that she has blue eyes.

She needed an advertising piece done and she at least came prepared. It is not really a big deal if all the equipment runs like it should.

I wrote this on: Tuesday November 25, 2008

I want everyone to love good bread.

I showed up after the office was closed. The office closes early on Sundays now so I didn’t have to wait too long. I was hoping that the checks I had ordered would be in because you see, I needed to write some checks.

The checks weren’t in but I really wasn’t actually there for the checks because there was actually no money. I was there because I ran into someone at the bakery.

Whenever I have to leave the office and the bakery can be on the way, I make sure that it ends up on my route. When I walked in, there was the cousin to the owner of the real estate company that I work for on a part time basis. I had just done about fifty custom invites for him and he mentioned that he saw a book that someone made up will all the things that happened sixty years ago. Also, the book’s cover had a variety of pictures of the person whose birthday it just happened to be. He asked if I could make one for the person whose birthday was coming up. He asked if it was a lot of work.

The last thing that I wanted was more work but the guy is a friend and does a lot for the neighborhood. I tried to explain that what he expected for an end product would most likely determine whether it would be a lot of work or not. I also let him know that if I received all the text already typed that it would be easier for me. He told me that, it would be typed.

I expected that all his information was going to be at the real estate office when I got there on the following Thursday but it wasn’t. It showed up the Thursday after that. The book was four sheets of run-of-the-mill plain white paper with a hole punch in the top left corner and tied with a piece of pink yarn. Included, were six photographs: two in color, the rest in black and white and some had tears and some had creases. I believe my shoulders shrank at the sight of what I was given.

And that is why I was really at the office on a Sunday afternoon. My office routine is to check around the office to see if I can identify and problems that people might be keeping from me. During my walk around I noticed what appeared to be the entire stack of custom invites that I had done a week and a day before; invites that included an R.S.V.P. date that would come due in six days. These where the same invites that I rushed to get done so that close too a normal response time would be given. I wasn’t pleased by the sight of them.

I trudged up to my office and scanned all the photos and then designed the cover of the book. I then tried to print it but for some reasons the colored photos wouldn’t print right, after some trial and error, I figured out if was because they were rotated. I then went home.

The next day I printed out four copies of the cover and discovered that now the black and white photos were now the ones not printing properly, so I redesigned the cover so that all the photos would be square. It wasn’t as visually interesting but it was still good. I then set about scanning the information pages from sixty years ago and covered them to editable text. I also gleaned more information from the internet.

I scattered related pictures around the pages and also threw in some design elements that I carried across the pages.

I then finished the advertising that was due a day earlier because of Thanksgiving.

I owner then walked through my office door and asked me something that I have since forgotten. I mentioned the still not mailed invitations. She then explained that the mailing list that she was going to use was messed up but that the posters and the fliers I had done were up or passed out. She also assured me that the invites would be mailed.

I didn’t even bother to ask if she thought they would actually arrive in time.

Usually, I would be quite angry that my effort went for naught but I had reasoned with myself previously that I shouldn’t get too upset over other people’s failures. I had done the best that I could have and I had certainly left everyone else enough time to get things out on time.

I’ll just send an undiscounted bill for the invites that will most likely go unpaid and forget about it.

All the stuff I brought in for the bake sale sold out; but then someone had put a price of two bucks on each my wonderful loaves of bread. I only knew one of the people that had bought them and the next business day I asked what he thought about it. He said that it was “Very good, like an artisan bread that you would buy in a local bakery.”

It pleased me a bit.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

I can out bake most men my age

It does make you wonder

What kind of person would steal content from someone to post it as their own?

I can under stand stealing for financial gain; and I can understand if there was some tangible prize to be had but to be accepted or more popular? I don’t get the math on that.

I have more respect for actual thieves than I do for posers. I can understand trying to be like someone you admire and/or respect. I can understand copying someone’s style. I can’t understand basically assuming someone else’s identity.

I find that I pick up other people’s traits that I think are cool, or that I think are righteous or that I think are just a better way to go about going-about but I don’t copy verbatim. I’m still me at the end of the day only I hope I’m just a better me.

Is your need to be liked so prevalent and your self esteem so low that you need to be someone else?

It’s a phony popularity because it is not you. How can a person be satisfied with that?


That seems like a bunch of uncompleted thoughts but I’m not going to go back and read it to find out, maybe someone can send me a email on it.

So, I was up at four in the morning so that I could bake some bread for the ridiculous bake sale. I was up at four in the morning because sometimes I just want to out-do the other guy. I was up at four in the morning because bread works on it’s own schedule.

Four loaves of ciabatta bread – I’m worried whether they will sell or not.

That sound like an open line to a poem or a short story, to me anyway.

Four loaves of ciabatta bread
I’m worried whether they will sell or not

At four A.M. I rose from bed
At six I had bread from the oven – hot

Right now I should start the short story because obviously: I’m no poet.

Right about now, if I were cleaver I would steal content from xtx and change every instance of the word masturbate to ciabatta bread.

Monday, November 17, 2008

“Come on, buy a cookie baked by a stranger”

I can access the SATA drive over the internet now. It’s quite the convenience.

I didn’t know how to forward a port to the router so I Googled it and nearly bought a forty dollar application that said it could help me out but I read a few more results and ended up getting it done for free. Easy peasy, although all the information wasn’t in one place.

My laziness often costs me money. I’m surprised at how lazy I truly am. I’m surprised that you can be industrious and lazy at the same time.

Two messages from this weekend:

You're Amazing! Thank you!

Thank you for thinking of my situation. It was nice to come home tonight and find someone thinking of me. I truely value your input....I mean that. Now I'm going to to put my drunk ass to sleep......zzzzz   xoxo!!

I’m posting that more for me than for you. I’m pretty sure that you already know that I’m amazing.

There is a bake sale coming up. Bake sales do not make fiscal sense to me. I would rather just hand over the cash that would get spent on ingredients.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

At least she didn't die before she stopped living

It was the longest that I had ever had to wait in line for a wake.

A friend's eighty year old mother died and what do you say to that?

I ended up not saying much.


Her email asked if we could start with two hundred and fifty invites.

And then some note cards, posters and fliers.

And we have to move the date up a week so that leaves us with a two week lead on the RSVP date.

People should have the invite in hand two weeks before the RSVP, they shouldn't be in design two weeks out.

And there needs to be an e-card to go with it.


It's had to wow people when my reputation proceeds me.

It's had to live up to that same reputation.

She walked into my office. She's probably the prettiest; she's definitely the youngest even though she has two daughters. She asked were the magic wand was. I said "I'll have to stand up to show you."

Actually, what I said was "I can't tell you all my secrets," and then I told her.

It wasn't magic, it was experience.

But sometimes I say it's magic.

One of her daughters goes to the high school where my sister teaches, during orientation she asked my sister if she knew a Timothy Green (only she used my real last name which isn't as common as the sir name Green). My sister said "Yeah, he's my brother." To which she replied "He's a nice guy. He's always helping us out at the office."

Friday, November 14, 2008

I have no title for this

She started telling me a story and after taking the long way to get to the middle, she explained that she wanted my opinion on the situation.

It took her awhile to finish her story mostly because she was still obligated to serve cheap draft beers to whatever status of people is at that notch above the dregs.

The opinion I offered was that her former boyfriend wants back into her life but at what level I did not know.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Thank You, Veterans

I think sometimes that the US Government feels like its veterans are a burden; not dissimilar to the away an absentee father, under child support order, treats his children. I think the US should do more for its veterans.

I also think that the US should cut down on the veterans it makes.

Sunday, November 09, 2008


I sometimes forget that I’ve done some surviving.

He started to talk about all the things that he would need to do to sell his home. I repeated that he should get a market analysis done from a local real estate agent. I said that he could get one for free and that the real estate agent would tell him what to focus his resources on fixing.

I said that having his old windows replaced would probably be more valuable to getting his house sold than him having the deck fixed. He said “It’s funny that you would say that because I was talking to one of my neighbors who does real estate and he said that I should have the windows done.” My mouth must have dropped a bit but I said nothing.

He’ll hear good advice but he’ll never act on it. He is his own worst enemy and I’m starting to believe that he is a lost cause.

Tuesday, November 04, 2008

fair weather voting

2:30pm - There is that feel of a great celebration that’s about to happen, in Boston anyway. A feeling like people want to be part of the change so they can brag about it later.

I would like to know where all these people were four years ago. And four years before that.

I’m in a blue state, most of the time my individual vote doesn’t matter much but I still get off my ass and vote. I’ve even voted for nobody on more than one occasion.

Today I had three of my local politicians running unopposed. Someone from their campaign will tally all the blank votes and one of them will be mine.

I did vote for president and I did vote on all the questions. I did vote against Kerry basically because he was a whiny douche and tried to get the Secretary of State to block his opponent from running so Kerry could sit on his lazy ass and not campaign. And that’s the kind of bullshit John Kerry likes to pull and that is why some of my friends voted against him in ’04.

Kerry also should have the votes all sewn up so my vote against him was just a little f.u., which really did him no harm but it made me feel better.

I never get a sticker that says "I Voted" because my city is too damn cheap to pass them out.

The bread update

I baked two loaves of white sandwich bread; it was rather involved. It was a different white bread recipe than I had used before. I am trying to branch out.

Start stage one and stage two and then let it sit for 1-4 hours, then mixed it, turn it out and let it sit for 20 minutes, then let it sit for 1-2 hours, then fold it over, then let it sit for 1-2 hours, then shape it and let it sit for 1-2 hours, then bake it.

The results I got were not worth the effort; but it does toast up nicely.

The same time I started the sandwich bread, I started a pizza dough and a ciabatta bread starter so I have those to complete in the near future. The pizza dough will probably be used to help clean out the frig of some leftovers by cramming them into a calzone.

It was a one-man show only he didn't seem to be the man

I sit in a pew often and this past Sunday, there was a guest speaker. He was an intern; he’s working on his master’s degree. He’s been around for a few weeks now. His original introduction included that he was somewhat shy.

He stood behind the pulpit and told us his story which included the story of his grandparents. I didn’t doubt the story he was telling was true and I didn’t doubt that the story was indeed his own, but he told it all without any passion. He told his story as if he had no personal connection to it. It was hard for me to listen to his words when his heart wasn’t in it.

It was like watching a one-man show. You cannot perform a personal story without looking ingenuous, is what I think.

Saturday, November 01, 2008

Things have slowed.

I thought I had a story but I don't.

I checked the flashdrive and there is nothing new there either.

You've seen the latest photo.

Monday, October 27, 2008

It’s no fun unless you touch it

I can’t say that I have always liked bread because I don’t have all my memories but I can say I can’t remember a time that I didn’t like bread.

I don’t know why I just started more earnestly baking bread but I think it might have had something to do with having to pay $3.69 for a baguette. I’ve found out that under four bucks ain’t bad for all that is involved.

I’ve also found out that bread making takes a lot of time management. You have to plan things out. Refrigeration does afford you some flexibility but in a day or two: it’s do or fail.

Rilo Kiley, Feist, The Shins, Eddie Vedder, The White Stripes, Neko Case, Jack Johnson, John Hiatt, Bruce Springsteen, CAKE, Spice Girls, The Cure, Semisonic, Chantel Kreviazuk, Tegan & Sara, Coldplay, The Decemberists, Brandi Carlile, The Fray, Augustana

Those are what the Genius option on iTunes picked. Most of those where impulse buys when I was bored and there was a music store next door to where I worked.

They had a top 20 display.

Sometimes, I’m a sucker.

I mostly use a stand mixer which makes bread making a chore and not a love.

It’s like petting a dog with a stick.

I like to play it cool


I do think about this place from time to time when I’m not posting. I guess lately, there hasn’t been much I wanted to get off my mind.

I don’t rock the boat much; I’m of the opinion that there are better ways to get your point across without causing too much of a scene. Some people think I miss out on some things because I don’t call attention to myself.

I was playing it cool but growing a little impatient. I was going to break my M.O., but every time I was going to stand up, I asked myself “What good will come from it?” I usually didn’t have a good answer, so I just kept quiet; my friends told me that I was making a mistake and I thought that they might be right.

Two of us were in the same situation only the other fellow made a scene. I was told last Friday that I would be getting a raise. The other fellow was told nothing, well nothing other than the boss felt that the other fellow stabbed him in the back a little.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

The photography isn't that good...

The photography isn't that good because I was still in baking mode and not in photo taking mode.

(I wrote that so it rhymes)

ciabatta 01
I got a little impatient. The starter gets started the day before. The starter is called a biga and the biga is one cup flour, one half cup water and an eighth of a teaspoon of yeast. You mix the ingredients and let it sit at room temperature for SIX hours and then put it in the refrigerator over night.

ciabatta 02
The next day you take the biga out of the frig and let it sit for about an hour to get to room temperature or there about. You mix two cups of flour (5.25oz), a cup of water, a half teaspoon of yeast and one teaspoon of salt along with the biga. I use a stand mixer so I mix it on low for about two minutes using the paddle attachment or until the mixture all comes together and then I mix it on medium high for three minutes which should change the soupy batter into a sticky dough.

I then put the dough into a bowl and let it rise until triple in volume (1.5 to 2 hours). I then let the gooey mass plop out of the bowl onto a bed of flour. I then cover the dough in flour and then cut it in half with a bench scraper.

I then carefully shape each piece into a rectangle (this makes two loaves), then dimple it by pressing my fingers into the dough at about one inch intervals. I then push the sides of the dough to make it taller. I then flip the dough over onto a half sheet pan that has a Silpat in it. I then let it rise until 1.5 times the volume (1.5 to 2 hours).
ciabatta 03
I then bake it in a magic bread oven at 475 for five minutes and then at 400 for twenty.

I didn't let this bread, the one in the photos, rise as much as I probably should have, I got impatient and couldn't wait but it's better for sandwiched without the huge voids that I got with the loaf before these ones.

My oven isn't really magic. I just use a baking stone and have a cast iron skillet at the bottom and immediately after the bread goes in, I dump a cup of ice into the skillet which causes a bunch of steam to fill the oven. I also spritz it a bit with a spray bottle.

Steam is important.

That's up to eleven hours and twenty five minutes of just waiting (over two day)