Best Gig, Russell, Bleak House, Cranford, Blocks
Now that I’ve had my last Fireside Carolers gig of my first year, I can report that I plan on doing it again next year. For one thing, the time investment alone in learning the 50+ songs needs to be paid off. For another, I just love singing Christmas songs, and I really like the other folks in the group.
Saturday I participated in the shortest and best gig of the year for me. It was less than half an hour, but it was in a home, and we were a surprise for the guests. We sang to a room of appreciative and festive people, and if I might say, we sang brilliantly. I really wish I’d recorded it.
Sunday I was in my longest gig, singing at the Woodburn outlet stores for two hours, both in an octet and strolling with a quartet. It was a cool experience, but that house gig was just the kind of thing that really makes it worthwhile. Getting paid for it didn’t hurt, of course, but knowing we elevated the evening was even cooler.
It was a slow year, so I’m told, in terms of the number of gigs we had. At first, I was fine with this, because I thought it’d let me ease into things. But once I got into the swing of it, it was kind of a bummer that I didn’t get to sing more. There’s always next year, though.
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I’m not a rabid, crazy Survivor fan. I’ve even basically skipped a couple of seasons. But I know what I know. And I know Russell should’ve won last night. I’ve tried to see my way clear to Natalie winning, and I’m not saying she’s not at all deserving, because she was a beast in a couple of challenges, but Russell ruled this season. But I guess nobody should expect a Survivor jury to be objective.
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As I wrote a couple of weeks ago, we’re on a BBC trip right now. After thoroughly enjoying Little Dorrit, we took in Bleak House, which was written for the screen by the same writer as Dorrit.
On the whole, it was a good production. The acting was still terrific, and there were definitely memorable characters. But I definitely preferred Little Dorrit. In part, I think it’s because I loved the main two characters in it, and in Bleak House there was really only one character who provoked anything like the same affection.
(By the way, I was very impressed with Gillian Anderson as Lady Dedlock. At times I actually had to remind myself she’s not English.)
One thing about Bleak House that we found distracting was the directing. There were so many fast cuts and weird sound effects during transitions. Not sure what the director was going for, but it didn’t always work. (The sound effects reminded me for all the world of the popping sound preceding the Flame Spurt in the Fire Swamp in The Princess Bride. And when you’re watching Dickens, you don’t necessarily want to be thinking of ROUSes. Just saying.)
I should dutifully point out that regardless of our impressions of the series, “Oh, my bones!” and “Shake me up, Judy!” have made it into the Heasley lexicon.
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So we enjoyed Bleak House, though it didn’t measure up to Little Dorrit. On the other hand, Cranford was simply wonderful. I loves me some Dame Judy Dench, so the production had some built-in Seth-appeal. (See what I did there? Seth-appeal. It’s the new Internet buzzword. Or not. But “baby fishmouth” is sweeping the nation. Now, did you recognize not one, but two When Harry Met Sally references there?)
I will say that Cranford is somewhat, shall we say, estrogeny? Which makes it fairly hilarious for a guy who grew up in a household with four women in it. Actually, it was entirely hilarious in a few places. “There’s lace at stake!” It was also profoundly sad in places, so I don’t recommend it if you’re averse to sad. But it’s not Summersby or anything, so don’t worry about it having a bad ending.
Oh, and if you haven’t heard of Alex Etel, you probably will in the future, because he’s an amazing child-actor. Just incredible.
I just found out there’s another Cranford series out there, so we’ll be taking that in just as soon as my Library Hold Request goes through.
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Somehow, we’ve resisted getting a game console system, even though it seems most folks have one. I can think of a few reasons.
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We have a computer, and we can always get games for it.
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I’d rather not spend the money.
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I really don’t need to want to play video games more, and I’d rather read.
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I never had one growing up. Uphill. Both ways!
On the other hand, it might be fun to play with the Pancake-Eating Son sometimes. But then I’m reminded that sometimes, it’s the simplest kind of interaction that works best.
The other day, Ethan and I got out the wooden blocks. We made the Taj Mahal. Or at least that’s what we called it. Then we took turns running a die-cast car through the bottom of it, seeing how long it would take before we accidently took out a key support member.
Sixteen minutes, by the way.
(Ethan also made the Eiffel Tower, which he called the France Tower. Pictures of our wooden block creations can be viewed over on the Fair Elaine’s daily picture gallery.)
And now the boy frequently asks to build stuff and knock it over. We have approximately a bazillion Legos, and he wants to build with wooden blocks. So I guess we won’t be getting that Wii anytime soon. I don’t grieve over this.
Potluck, Shopping in a Tux, Robbie the Reindeer
Another week, another Fireside Carolers report. This weekend I got to drive out to Camas, WA, in questionable weather. (Though not so questionable as the onslaught of local weather coverage had hoped predicted.) It was my first quartet gig, and it could hardly have been less intimidating. We were basically background music at a party, and only a few people seemed to really notice we were there. So we got to sing some of the more challenging pieces and not worry about if there were some rough spots. So it worked as a rehearsal of sorts.
Sunday, I sang in an octet for Potluck in the Park, and that was awesome. It’s one of our outreach events where we volunteer our time, and it’s definitely a worthy cause, providing some cheer while anyone who shows up gets a hot meal. The place was packed and both the volunteers at the potluck and those being served were very appreciative of us. What a privilege to be involved in this kind of event. (BTW, it’s every Sunday that Potluck in the Park is put on.)
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After both the Saturday and Sunday gigs, I did some shopping in a tux. It was part, “it’s on the way home,” and part social experiment. And here’s my conclusion from the experiment:
Non-whites are just more friendly and open.
Seriously, if I think back to all the people who made comments about how I looked, I think there was only one white person over eighteen who made a comment who wasn’t actually working in a shop I was in. And the folks working in the shops might be expected to chat up the customers a bit.
I did get a few questions, mostly from teenaged girls, about whether I was getting married. But mostly, it was non-whites who just came right out and told me I was lookin’ good. It made me want to make sure to shake off some of my own interpersonal inhibitions and pay a compliment when one’s called for, even if the target is a total stranger.
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Somehow, movie lines are funnier when spoken with British accents. Such is definitely the case with the animated film Robbie the Reindeer in Hooves of Fire. I should warn at the outset that there’s another version of the film in which the voices are provided by such luminaries as Ben Stiller and Britney Spears. Nothing against Ben Stiller (Dodgeball cracked me up), but I can’t imagine the American version is anything but dreadful.
The story, and there’s not much to it, but who cares, is that Robbie, son of the famous Rudolph, joins up with the sleigh team, much to the chagrin of Blitzen, who feels that Rudolph gets too much press that should rightly go to him.
He doesn’t think much of Robbie, either, and expresses his feelings to the rest of the crew in these terms:
“I say we…crush him! Grind him into dust! Then feed the remains of the dust to the wolves! Then…blow up the wolves!”
This has to be one of my favorite movie lines ever. And on that topic, perhaps I should lay out a few of my other faves. (Unattributed, so it’s a fun game to play at home. Movie/Character/Actor if you really want to show your skilz.)
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“Say…that’s a nice bike.”
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“Crush your enemies, see them driven before you and to hear the lamentation of their women.”
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“Man, now that’s a real shame when folks be throwin’ away a perfectly good white boy like that…”
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“Yeah, vision is highly overrated.”
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“Lane, I’ve been going to this high school for seven and a half years. I’m no dummy!”
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“Alright, we waste him. No offense.”
As a couple of hints, two lines are from the same film. Two other lines are from the same director, and he’s got a new film with blue people in it coming out soon.
Anyhow, the film was funny and silly. And done in stop-motion, Wallace and Gromit kind of animation. There was a bit of innuendo, so adults might want to preview before showing it to kiddos, although I think it’d mostly go over the heads of the younglings.
MM: Carolers, Award, Recipes
Well, my first performance with Fireside Carolers went as well as I could’ve hoped. We did our free concert at the church that hosts our rehearsals, and I didn’t flub anything in a way that could’ve been noticed. The Fair Elaine snapped a picture of me singing, looking like I was maybe a wee bit tentative. Guilty. (She also posted some pictures from our Thanksgiving Weekend on her blog.)
Next weekend I get my first real Carolers experience, as I’ll be going out in an octet on Friday and Saturday. Today’s singing actually gave me a bit of a confidence boost.
Oh, and I think I looked pretty good in my tux. Is it weird that I have a tuxedo, but don’t own even so much as a sport jacket?
BTW, for anyone needing a budget tuxedo and living in or around Portland, head over to Mr. Formal Clearance Center on SE 7th in Portland.
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So, it’s weird enough having readers of my blog whom I don’t personally know. (Like the time the other Seth Heasley’s mom dropped by.)
It’s even stranger when they like my writing enough to lob an award at me. Yes, it’s true. My Orthodox reader, DebD (of Deb on the Run), has awarded me with the Superior Scribbler award.
It’s both an award and a meme. I don’t do much meme-ing, because I’ve just gotta be meme…heh. But I’ll do my best here. First, the rules:
- Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.
- Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author & the name of the blog from whom he/she has received The Award.
- Each Superior Scribbler must display The Award on his/her blog, and link to This Post, which explains The Award.
- Each Blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit this post and add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List. That way, we'll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives This Prestigious Honor!
- Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog.
I’m fine with all these steps except for the first one. Because I simply don’t have that many Bloggy Friends that I don’t know personally. And I’d feel funny linking them, like there was a conflict of interest. So I feel that I should choose from people I’ve found online and started following.
But I haven’t done all that much of that. I’m more of a window shopper, and I know it’s wrong and all, but I click through to a lot of book review posts from Semicolon Blog’s Saturday Book Reviews, and I haven’t managed to look back at many of the authors’ non-book-review work. Except for DebD’s, and that’s because she’s posted interesting comments on my Theology Thursday ramblings.
In short, I know I must mend my ways and be a better blog commenter/follower.
But I’ll attempt to fulfill at least the spirit of the meme. I’m not planning on notifying all these folks, because a couple of them are already Big Time, so why would they care what I think?
JonV at Into the Darkness. I’ve known him since he was just a pup (Read: when he was twelve and not yet taller than me. And when he called me Mr. Heasley). Now he’s doing engineering work for the Mennonite Central Committee in Mozambique, and writing extremely verbose posts about his life there. I know I’m not really entitled to be proud of him, but I was the worship leader for the youth program way back then… (Yes, I know him personally, but he’s in Africa!!!)
Apostrophe Abuse. I’ve written quite a bit about the signs of the Apostrolypse on this here blog. But Apostrophe Abuse has pages and pages of evidence. It’s serious, folks.
Keith Law at Meadow Party. Baseball writer, food critic, book reviewer. Good work if you can get it (though I think he mostly gets paid for the baseball stuff). He inspires me to read more, and I already feel like I read a lot.
Amos at The Amateur Entymologist and Outside the Camp. His musings on English, as a non-native speaker, are always interesting. And while I don’t agree with his Calvinism, I still enjoy his theology thoughts on Outside the Camp. (BTW, I initially found him while searching “A While vs. Awhile”.)
Michael Brooks at Aetherwatch. I very much enjoyed his book, Thirteen Things that Don’t Make Sense last year. On his blog, he posts other such weirdities and his general musings.
Hey, I managed five awards! Whee!
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We had a great Thanksgiving feast, with actually a lot of vegetables. We had Marinated Vegetable Salad, which is a favorite of mine, and Roasted Carrots, Asparagus, and Brussels Sprouts.
Yes, Brussels Sprouts. Seriously. Actually, I’ve always liked them, but after reading about how much my niece and nephews enjoyed them, we had to try the recipe.
It’s a deep, dark, secret. Very complicated.
(Toss the veggies in olive oil and sprinkle liberally with salt and pepper. Bake at 400-ish until done. Half-hour or so. Longer for the carrots, shorter for the asparagus.)
Yes, I used the word Recipes up in my title, so I should give a couple more away.
My sister made this killer Sweet Potato and Apple Casserole at Christmas last year, so we had to try it. (Layer sliced sweet potatoes with thinly sliced Granny Smith Apples, sprinkle some pecans over it, add some butter, orange juice, and brown sugar, and dust with cinnamon. Bake at 400-ish and take it out before it burns. Yes, it was a close call but still delicious.)
Well, we had leftovers of that dish, so I made Leftover Sweet Potato Casserole Pancakes!!!!
I threw the leftovers in the food processor (probably one and a half cups total after pureeing), then mixed in about a cup and a half of flour, a couple of eggs, a cup or so of soymilk, a tablespoon of baking powder, a dash of salt, and some orange zest, and threw it on the griddle.
Awesome! BTW, my opinions of apple desserts are well known and acknowledged by all as wrong. (Weirdly, they’re recorded in that post Other Seth’s mom commented on.)
But the Sweet Potato and Apple Casserole is seriously good, and the pancakes were, as My Son the Breakfast Appetite would say, “ridiclius.” Unfortunately, it only made eleven small pancakes, which is just not enough for five people including the Breakfast Appetite.
(BTW, I’ve been thinking I need a nickname for the Offspring, and I think I have it. The Breakfast Appetite just fits so perfectly. Or maybe The One Whose Spiritual Gift is Breakfast Eating. Or just the Breakfast Eater. Or Ethan the Breakfast Eater. Or maybe a Dances with Wolves-style name like Eats Many Pancakes. Votes? Suggestions?)
We also made from-the-hip Turkey Soup, using the leftover giblet stock and pan drippings that I didn’t turn into the world’s greatest gravy in the world. Yes, it’s perfectly acceptable to be redundant when talking about gravy. Especially when you’re a semi-veg family.
(Oh, the Turkey Soup recipe. Some of the amounts are approximate.)
- Some Turkey, chopped.
- A few carrots, chopped.
- Some celery, chopped.
- Some potatoes, chopped.
- An onion, executed in a food processor until dead, then kept on bread and water for two weeks, then beaten roundly with sticks. Please, someone get my clumsy literary reference…
- Garlic, a truckload, to taste.
- Leftover green beans (yes, we had those, too), chopped
- Spices of various kinds. One or more of the bay/basil/marjoram/thyme category.
Sauté the veggies in olive oil until you stop. Then add liquids. Like stock. Or gravy. Or a partial box of Pacific Foods Chicken Broth. (Add leftover mashed potatoes if you somehow managed to run out of gravy before potatoes. It’ll thicken the soup nicely.)
Add fresh cracked pepper and consume with leftover Non-Hockey-Puck Rolls.
MM: Birthday, Size
If my math is correct, I turn 37 today. Hard to believe, really. Especially with the amount of tree-climbing I did as a kid. In trees taller than the power lines. Through the branches of which the power lines passed. Around which power lines I climbed to get to the top.
(We were really bummed when the power company finally came along and cut the top off that tree. We could see everything from up there!)
Somehow I’ve managed to never do a birthday post before. Oh, I’ve posted on other topics on my birthday, but never one about my birthday. Strange. So I thought I’d share some deep thoughts. Or just ramble. My blog, my birthday, my rules.
Warning: this will be quite random.
I remember when I had my birthday in Kindergarten that we had a piñata. I wonder if they still allow five-year-olds (well, six in my case) to swing long wooden poles in class? Kinda doubtful, considering that most schools don’t even let you bring cupcakes anymore.
(I had this wicked-cool Star Trek jumpsuit I remember wearing on my birthday. Oh, yeah!)
Is it a sign of getting old when there are long periods of my life in which my only substantial memory is watching The Empire Strikes Back over and over? Well, there was some The Last Starfighter mixed in there, too. (BTW: First line of Starfighter: “Mmm…gonna be a sparklin’ day. Sparklin’!”)
I quote movies, therefore I am. When I read the lovely list of positive attributes The Fair Elaine wrote about me, my initial thought was “Who’s scruffy lookin’?” Anybody care to provide the movie for that quote? Or explain why it popped into my head? Because she didn’t call me half-witted or a Nerfherder. (D’oh! I gave it away, didn’t I?)
(By the way, I’m sure she wanted to do a full list, including negatives, but couldn’t think of any. Right, honey?)
As I’ve aged, I’ve found I’m an increasingly gifted sleeper. Oh, I’ve got some years to go and some skilz to develop before I’m my Dad’s equal, but has he ever fallen asleep while riding a bike? So let’s just say I have the potential to surpass him. (Bike-sleeping: Caused by morning paper route.)
And maybe the sleeping thing is just to make up for all the hours of lost sleep from college. I once fell asleep in an apartment full of people. It was my apartment. I’d been up for forty hours or so. The sacrifices one makes for an engineering degree.
I often wonder why I didn’t discover my love for reading and writing before I declared my major. Maybe it was God’s way of making sure I’d get a good job. Plus, maybe I wouldn’t love writing if I did it for a paycheck. And I’m glad I have my job.
(I had inklings about both reading and writing before I graduated, partly evidenced by the amount of extracurricular reading I was doing when I probably should’ve been paying attention in Thermodynamics.)
One thing I definitely know, with my acquired wisdom: When you’re lighting firecrackers and then throwing them, sometimes you get a Quick Fuse. And you have to get rid of it quickly. And sometimes it lands on the guy-next-to-you’s head. I was the guy-next-to-you, and I can’t remember who you were. So email me if you remember the incident. My lawyer will be contacting you. (Okay, I don’t have a lawyer.)
You know, a lot of my memories involve head injury. Like the time my wet swimming clothes caught in my spokes and sent me end-over-end. In twelfth gear, full-tilt-boogie. I held on to the handlebars admirably. In hindsight, choosing to land on my hands might’ve redirected the point of impact a bit.
And yet again, a head-injury lesson: When hurrying over to render aid to a small plane that’s just crashed on a sandbar, don’t crash your boat. Sometimes the kid at the back of the boat becomes an Undignified Flying Object and ends up with a nasty gash through his eyebrow.
(The folks in the plane were fine, BTW. And it’s not like I needed that part of my left eyebrow, anyway. It actually evened them up since the previously mentioned bike crash involved the grating off of part of my right one.)
Finally, my favorite birthday wish so far. (Apart from hugs and kisses from my wife and son, of course.) Jay McKenney instructed me to learn the baritone part to “Happy Birthday” and sing it to myself.
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Okay, from Birthday ramblings to actual fun linkage!
You’ve probably seen those cool graphics that show how small the Earth is relative to a bunch of other planets and stars, right? No? Well, check one out:
Of course, size isn’t everything. What about how small small stuff is?
The University of Utah has a cool demonstration of the relative sizes of really small stuff. Unfortunately, I can’t embed it, so you’ll have to just go check it out for yourself.
Monday Musings: Moustache, Ticket Refund, Pumpkin Recipes
Evidently, there are some people who would now characterize me as having a moustache. And it’s true, to some extent, as my current facial hair involves both a goatee and moustache, also known as the very arcane “moutee” (or Circle Beard). “Van Dyck” is another possible name for it.
(These days, most people just call it a goatee.)
My antipathy for the moustache alone can hardly be overstated. I agree with the statement I once read in the local fish-wrap that “a moustache is no less than a man’s admission to being unable to grow a full beard.”
By the way, for those in my family who may be wondering about the new facial foliage (perhaps seen over on The Fair Elaine’s blog), it was for my Halloween costume. (Dressing up as a coworker who shares my first name, whom we sometimes – affectionately? – call “Evil Seth.”)
I like having less beard to shave. And I’ll enjoy it for a while, then probably tire of the beard and let it go.
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I don’t believe I blogged about the speeding ticket I got on the way to go camping at Fort Stevens. A coworker advised me to mail the fine in along with a letter asking for leniency (or is that lenience?)
Well, it apparently worked, at least a little bit. Because I got a Ticket Refund (25% off, which doesn’t hurt).
However, I’d like to amuse myself, and perhaps some others, by reporting that my name, in full, was written on the citation itself. It was also written on the outside of the envelope in which I mailed the letter. It was further written on the letter itself, in TWO PLACES (business format, you know). So that’s a good four occurrences of my name.
So why, exactly, is my refund check made out to one Seth Morgon Hedsley? (Admittedly, I didn’t include my middle name, so I’ll give them a pass for that and be relieved it didn’t say “Moron.”
Evidently, typing instruction in Clatsop County is somewhat lacking.
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Since I referenced Pumpkin Carving, I figured I’d pass along a few Pumpkin Recipes.
If you’re just the carving type, you can at least roast the seeds:
Roasted Seeds
- Rinsed, dried seeds
- a bit of cooking oil (I used olive)
- seasoning, to taste (I used Mama Garlic – garlic salt)
Mix the seeds and seasoning in a bowl or zip-top bag, then spread out on a cookie sheet and bake for ~30 minutes at 300 degrees, until they begin to brown.
(check on them about halfway through and give them a stir/flip)
By the way, seeds from most varieties of squash can be done this way. Butternut Squash seeds are delicious, but there aren’t many of them in a typical one.
Roasting the actual pumpkin is reeeeeeeaaalllllly easy.
Roasted Pumpkin
(Best done with a pie pumpkin)
Cut the pumpkin in half and scoop out the seeds and orange gunk (roast the seeds!).
Place the pumpkin halves face down in a shallow pan (jelly roll pan) with about a quarter inch or so of water.
Bake at ~425-450 degrees until a fork goes in easily. (Figure about 40 minutes to an hour, depending on size.)
When cooled, the skin will peel off pretty easily. (Or you can scrape the pumpkin out with a spoon.) If you want to use it in recipes, puree it in a food processor or blender until smooth. Freeze it in small amounts (a cup or two) for use in other recipes.
(You can also just serve it with butter, without pureeing it. It’s got a nice, sweet flavor.)
My favorite way to use cooked pumpkin?
Pumpkin Pancakes
(substitute where desired)
- 2 cups whole wheat pastry flour
- ¼ cup brown sugar
- 1 Tbsp baking powder
- ½ Tbsp cinnamon
- ½ tsp ground ginger
- ¼ tsp ground cloves
- ¼ tsp ground nutmeg
- ¼ tsp salt
- 1 ½ cups milk (or soy milk)
- 1 to 1 ½ cup pureed pumpkin
- 2 eggs
- ¼ cup butter, melted
(The original recipe calls for 4 eggs, separated, and then whipping the whites and folding them in. Too much work, IMHO, and it works just fine with fewer eggs and no extra work.)
Combine flour, sugar, salt, baking powder, and spices in a large bowl.
Combine eggs, pumpkin, milk, and melted butter in a small bowl.
Add wet to dry and stir until just combined. Allow the baking powder to start working for a few minutes (also lets the flour hydrate a bit). Ladle onto a 350 degree skillet.
Serve with maple syrup (don’t even think about using the fake stuff or I’ll take the recipe back).
The Fair Elaine also makes a killer pumpkin bundt cake, but I’ll let her share the recipe if she so chooses.
True Love Tuesday
I'm sending this message out into the blogosphere, where it will be read by ones of people, I'm sure. But there's only one who really matters.
Happy Birthday, Elaine! I love you more than I can say. But here’s a short list of things I love about you:
I love that you persist in trying to talk to me while brushing your teeth, even though you know it bothers me. (And I get that you do it just to tweak me, and I'm cool with that.)
I love that you watch sports with me. I figure I owe you a few Chick Flicks by now.
I love that you mow the lawn. I’ll keep doing the dishes…(well, I do know the optimal way to load the dishwasher…)
I love that you love my pancakes and encourage me generally in my cooking (and I've gotten better since we were first married and I thought chicken had to be cooked for twenty minutes and basically turned into shoe-leather).
I love that you don’t complain about how hairy I am. That can’t have been high on your list of husbandly traits to look for.
I love that you haul around that heavy (and expensive, but we won't mention that) camera equipment and document our lives, and especially the life of our Little Man. Even when sometimes that means just documenting our getting take-out for dinner.
I love that you enjoyed it when Ethan discovered armpit music.
I love that you encourage me to write, and to even be a writer, even though you’re the English Major. And even though I want to write about bathrooms and theology.
I love that you nod politely when I talk about science fiction. And allow Ethan and me to enjoy Star Wars even though you’re not into it.
I love that you occasionally do random movie quotes, and don’t complain that I do it way too much.
I love that you have vision. For our home, for our yard, for our family.
And I love that you stretch your comfort zone. That you pour yourself into Ethan. Into homeschooling him, even though you don’t feel up to it. Even when you don’t feel good about how it’s going.
I love that you rebel against the “I could never homeschool” line we hear so often. That you do it even when it’s hard.
I love that you found something that worked and taught Ethan to read even though he wasn’t always into it. (You’re a big reason he loves to read now.)
I love you. I hope you have a great Birthday Week.
MM: Arm, Early, Equaled, Playoffs
My son really has an arm on him. I know this because he threw me a baseball yesterday, and I caught it. On the spine. Right between the shoulder blades. I happened to not be looking at the time, and he failed to alert me to his throw. But the impact certainly helped me get the message. (He also received the message that I was not pleased with his failure to warn me.)
It makes a nice bruise.
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Ethan’s back to having swim meets. I just wish they weren’t so early. We had to be over at Terpenning (Tualatin Valley Rec Center) at 7am on Saturday. I’m not a big fan of such hours on Saturdays.
I’d post video, but it was hard to get a really good angle. He did win one of his heats, and I know he finished in the top five in at least two of his events. Room to improve, but a good start to the season.
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I finished reading a book to Ethan yesterday, and I’ve now equaled last year’s Book Total of fifty-seven. I’m still a good fifteen hundred pages short, though, which means my average book length has decreased this year. I haven’t finished my Bible-reading for the year yet, though, and that’ll restore the average a bit.
(I’m still a good eight thousand pages shy of my 2005 reading record, and I don’t think that record’s coming down this year.)
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Watching the MLB Playoffs, I’m more and more glad I don’t have a team to root for in them. Because some of these games must be causing huge blood pressure swings for the fans. I like just watching and enjoying the games.
On the other hand, I’ll be willing to suffer some stress if the Mariners ever decide to make it back to the postseason.
(BTW, I find myself feeling good for A-Rod, and I’m not a Yankee fan. Is this a sign of serious mental collapse?)
MM: Doubleheader, September?, Yelling, Amazing Race 15
Ethan’s Fall Ball team had a doubleheader on Sunday, with both games against the same team. The first game resulted in a tie (13-13), and the second game was a narrow 16-13 defeat. But the boys played well. We even recorded a 1-2-3 inning. No base runners allowed is quite a feat at this level.
Ethan got some time as a position player this time, and made two outs at first base (one on a routine grounder the pitcher fielded and threw to Ethan, the other a line drive to Ethan).
HE ALSO GOT HIS FIRST BASE HIT!!! In the course of the two games, he reached base at least three times (I’m trying not to be obsessive, so I haven’t been writing it down or anything). He doubled, had a base hit and advanced on an error, and walked at least once (I think).
He also flailed wildly at a couple of dirt-scraping pitches, because by then he felt like he could hit anything. Now hopefully he knows better.
(Of course, Ethan credits his shiny new bat. His old tee-ball bat was getting pretty dinged up from hitting baseballs.)
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By the way, speaking of baseball, is this really late September? Because my whole left side is burned to a crisp on account of coaching first base for two straight games.
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The sun was probably not a factor in my being somewhat hoarse. That would be from all the yelling and screaming at my base runners. My favorite comment from a player, who required an extraordinary amount of encouragement to take second base on a passed ball:
“I didn’t know you were talking to me.”
I guess the fact that he was on first base and I was the First Base Coach didn’t add up to “he’s talking to me.”
I shouldn’t actually be surprised, I suppose, as this is the same kid who, when I shouted that he should be covering second base (when he was playing second base), actually pointed at himself as if to say, “Me?”
I guess that baseball instincts have to be taught. Evidently the teaching involves quite a bit of yelling.
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And finally, a non-baseball topic: The Amazing Race 15 is now on the air. I remember watching the first season and hoping the ratings would be good enough that they’d do a second. Rinse and repeat for the next two seasons.
I guess the ratings are good enough now that it’ll stick around awhile.
Oh, and I’m not sure how I’d have done with the Wasabi Bomb. Ed would’ve done that Road Block, I think…
MM: Camping, Fall Ball, Football
Last week, we went camping with a bunch of other homeschoolers at Fort Stevens. It’s really quite lovely to go on vacation right when everybody else goes back to school, and we even got pretty good weather. (Much better than the rain the weekend campers evidently got.)
We got to use our new tent (used twice for backyard camping, but now officially broken in), new camp stove (Ramen, Grilled Cheese and Canned Soup – Lentil, and Pancakes were cooked thereon), and all that other New Stuff we got specifically for this trip.
And now it’s all inventoried and packed away in the garage for our next trip, which we feel will involve less equipment acquisition. We have the stuff, and it’s ready to get thrown in the back of the van.
Ethan had an absolute blast playing with his friends and sleeping in the tent (we even got upgraded to one of the Yurt sites for one night!).
Of course, camping at Fort Stevens isn’t exactly roughing it, as there’s plenty of drinkable (if less-than-tasty) water and bathrooms and showers. But it still counts as camping, and I didn’t shave or anything, so that makes it more realerer, right?
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After Ethan finished his Coach Pitch Baseball experience, we discovered the existence of Reedville Fall Baseball, also known as Fall Ball. The conversation with Ethan went something like this: 
Us: "Ethan, we might be able to get you into Fall Baseball. Would you rather do soccer again or…"
Ethan: “Baseball!”
Well, he had his first Fall Ball game on Sunday, and he was the starting pitcher. We figured he might be nervous, but he absolutely ate it up. The first inning wasn’t so great, as our team didn’t record an out before the bad guys scored their maximum per-inning total of five runs.
But Ethan put the ball over the plate quite a bit and even induced a ground ball that might’ve been turned into an out.
The second inning was another story, though. He allowed another ground ball to second. Alas, it didn’t turn into an out, and the runner eventually came around to score on a passed ball (pretty much all baserunners steal second, third, and home).
But Ethan’s line for the inning was this, in baseballese: 1 IP, 0H, R, 2K
Now allow me to translate: one inning pitched, no hits (the one groundball would go as an error rather than a hit), one run, two strikeouts. (I won’t reproduce the line for the first inning because it wasn’t as pretty.)
But the best part was how the inning ended. With two out and nobody on, the batter swung at the first pitch and hit a popup between home and first. And Ethan snagged it for the third out, then ran back to the dugout. Here’s the video of his performance:
The Reds (Ethan’s team) did end up on the losing side (either 8-4 or 8-5), but that one inning was awesome. And our team only allowed the five-run-max one time.
The hitting didn’t go exactly according to plan, Ethan ending up with a walk and a strikeout (but it was swinging, which is better than looking). But we’ll work on that.
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I’ve written before of my general dislike of football. Nonetheless, I’ve consented to participate in a Fantasy Football League with some family members. I have not consented to really get into it. In fact, I’m still not sure how the whole thing works, and I didn’t watch any substantive amount of football over the weekend.
I watched tennis and baseball instead. I feel no remorse over this.
But I must rant a bit about football and how greedy it is: It can’t even finish on time. And it’s a game with a CLOCK!!! At least baseball has that excuse. No clock, no real way to predict how long a game will take. Football games have ONE HOUR of clock time to run down, and they still manage to overrun their three hour television slot. With regularity.
This isn’t limited to professional football, of course, and my rant is actually somewhat more targeted at College Football (which is an even bigger mystery to me than the NFL), which impacted my baseball viewing. This is unacceptable.
The NFL did run over and impact my tennis viewing. This is a problem that needs fixin’. But at least I know football will be done by early next year. That’s something. So here it is, the first week of football, and I’m ready for it to be over.
Though I’ll admit I was still glad the Seahawks won.
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MM: Media Blackout, Meggie
Well, we're heading to the beach, so I'm heading for one of those dreaded Media Blackouts. Not that I actually dread it or anything. And it's not that much of a change, really. I don't do Twitter (and still don't get why anyone would), I don't text, I'm likely to go several days without using my cell phone anyway, and I don't really pay much attention to Facebook even when I'm here (unless someone challenges me to Wordtwist). And I suppose it goes without saying that I won't be blogging.
(Okay, so I already scheduled a Wordful Wednesday, so that could be cheating, but it was already written...)
I will miss watching baseball, even if the Mariners aren't going to make the playoffs. I'm considering recording a couple of games, but I think I'll just skip it.
I'm also doing something of a caffeine fast, but that's not really a big deal since I only normally have coffee three times a week. But it's good to fast from it even so.
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Ever had someone in your life you thought you didn't like, and then they went away and you missed them? That's what happened when Meggie went away to college. Maybe we'd just grown sick of each other before she went away, but there was an odd transformation that took place when she came back. (My attempt to return my friend's wallet late in the night in December, in Alaska, in my underwear had nothing to do with anything, although I'm glad Mom and Meggie were still up talking and stopped me.)
We discovered we were cut from the same cloth. Maybe familiarity had previously bred contempt, but now it bred content. We liked the same things. We knew the same jokes. We discovered we had the same sense of humor and had similar mannerisms. We could both quote movies all day long without missing a line, and we knew the same ones. (Pop Quiz: "Joe, look at the stars! Dozens of 'em!")
And maybe the fact that we were the Middle Kids factored in there, too. Or maybe I finally paid her back for all those quality hours listening to 80s Music in her room by being nice to her.
Meggie encouraged me in my singing, which turned out to be a big thing since I'm still doing it. (And we've sung together on many occasions, and that's awesome, too. Oh, and Meggie, it's "Surrounded by confusion.")
It made my transition away from home much easier, knowing I had two of my sisters in town. (Erin in town and Meggie on campus.) Meggie even let me hang out with her friends! It was always enjoyable to hang at MMMK (you had to be there). We'd sing and laugh and play Nerts into the wee hours more frequently than any of us probably should have.
Happy 40th Birthday (for yesterday) Meggie! I love you!
(And I guess this means I'm next up on the Turning Forty list. All you Alaska folks can just move down here if you like...)