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Wednesday, June 8, 2005
Zen Chuzzle
I have left the house and a Zen Chuzzle addict now inhabits my body. That crazy person has so far racked up over 200,000 points and the end is not in sight.
What Was He Thinking?
I'm trying to imagine what Patrick Robinson was thinking when he wrote his latest military-guys techno thriller, ScimitarSL-2. This is the last of my latest grocery store binge books. Briefly, the plot is that evil terrorists learn that if a volcano in the Canary Islands were to erupt with sufficient enthusiasm, the resulting tsunami would wipe out the entire east coast of the USA. So terrorists obtain nuclear missiles from North Korea, a nuclear-powered sub from Russia, and pay smart people in China to modify that sub so it will fire their missiles. Then they blow up Mt. St. Helen's, hurriedly claim credit, and present the US president with a list of demands which, being a liberal weenie, he decides to ignore. This leaves the noble US military to save the world behind the president's back, if they can.
Now here's the deal. If it's actually possible to wipe out the entire eastern seaboard of the US with a tsunami in this way, why would he carefully explain how to go about it...which is what this story amounts to...a detailed manual. The question is not moot. I live right where I would be most likely to get kaboomed by such a disaster. Did he write thinking that terrorists would try to do this anyway and his book could alert enough Americans to get action in time? Is it all just a political treatise aimed at helping to elect another Republican in 2008? Is the book just a bunch of silly-science, far-fetched sensationalism to sell a lot of copies and make a lot of money for him? Of course I have no idea what Patrick Robinson was thinking, but I do know that a great deal of media energy since 9/11 has gone toward speculation re. what terrorists might do to us next...and this book reads like a class in how most efficiently to achieve the greatest amount of death and destruction. For an author with a life career in the military, it's a peculiar book.
Re. grocery store books in general, right now there is an abundant harvest on the shelves at the ghetto grocery. All through the winter there were just occasional new ones. Now there are lots of new ones each time I look. That's because it's getting to be vacation time. People buy "beach books". A beach book is a huge, fat paperback full of either crazy, outrageous adventure or sex...sometimes both. Needless to say, "beach book" and "grocery store book" are synonyms. I call it literature if I might want to read it again sometime. If it's a read-and-pass-it-on job, that's a grocery store book. Why aren't any books of my recent interest in the literature category? Because they have nothing whatsoever to say except, "Ooh, let me tell you what happened. You almost won't believe it," as if a friend got your ear to tell some crazy thing that happened to him/her. Literature tells what happened as a way of telling what to think, feel, and believe, how to live your life. At least that's what I think. I gave the author of Scimitar SL-2 the compliment of wondering if he's trying to do more than just report an imaginary event. It's not a very good a story, but maybe the author was trying to be more than a beach book hack.
Wow
Today Lydia spent many hours building my computer armoire. Then she neatly assembled all the components and wires inside this new piece of furniture. I do most certainly appreciate her extra good deed.
Monday, June 6, 2005
Ready Or Not
The sun came up today as usual but I wasn't ready. Last night was one of my up all night reading orgies. I probably could have gone to sleep at around 7:00A.M. but Pork Chop had other ideas, so I got up and took her for a walk.
Yow! It was like walking out into a steam bath. We had not gone a block before I dripped with sweat,,,running down my face, fogging up my glasses. I had to take my glasses off. Looking at the forecast I read that the temperature is already 88 degrees Fahrenheit but feels like ninety. Seems that we have come into a real down-south hot spell. That's good. My tomatoes will ripen more quickly. Today I ate the first one for breakfast.
Anyway back to the book orgy. Last night I read Stephen Hunter's new one, Havana, about the time of gangsters running casinos, the rule of Fulgencio Batista, Castro's early stumbles into leadership, the South American Catholic attitude toward religion as something done in church, having nothing to do with daily life. The whole book was just a bath in trash and corruption, but somehow, also, it was a lot of fun. The rhetoric went completely over the top, shamelessly sensational. I have to admit that I enjoyed it, finished it about midnight. In a way it was like reading a book by a little kid, the hectic pace of disaster piled upon disaster just seemed like something an adult would be embarrassed to write. Of course, Stephen Hunter is anything but embarrassed. He cranks this stuff out all the time and his fans love it. He also writes for The Washington Post and has a Pulitzer Prize to his credit, so he's good at what he does. I felt that this author has a wonderful time writing, lets his imagination run amuck and enjoys the vicarious adventures he creates for the reader.
Then I started to read the new Douglas Preston book, The Codex. Here was another wild and unlikely adventure, this time in the jungles of Honduras in search of Mayan tombs and temples to loot. All the cliches are in there; machete-fighting with an anaconda to save a fellow adventurer, overwhelming insect infestation, hostile Indian tribes with poison-tipped arrows, lives miraculously saved with herbal rememdies harvested in the jungle, cruelly irresponsible American corporations. Yes, it was a cliche-fest, but it, too, was fun, from the man rescued as he hung by his fingernails from a rotten vine bridge a mile above the jungle river to the man rescued after being entombed in a Mayan temple for a month. Douglas Preston writes alone, but he more commonly teams with Lincoln Childs to write mad, desperate, horrorific adventures the latest of which, Brimstone, I read recently and found highly entertaining.
On the one hand if I were the talented person I am not, and if I wrote stories such as these, I might not admit it to my nearest and dearest. Books like this probably don't qualify as literature. They're stories. They're a cheap, safe trip to another place and an improbably exciting time. On the other hand, I'd feel like a public benefactor. Very few people could survive such adventures, would ever undertake them in real life. It's great fun, though, to live these hair-breadth episodes through the pages of a book. Last night I shot it out with gangsters in the steamy, crime-ridden streets of old Havana and then I survived a month in the jungles of Honduras. And now I'm tired.
Sunday, June 5, 2005
My, My!
Once in a while something happens that shows me how far things have come in a short while. A few minutes ago my computer-side phone rang. I could hear the voices of Benny and Sadie. I heard Dan's voice...then Lydia, "Ahno?"
Me, "Yes?"
Lydia, "We're approaching the Lesner Bridge. Go to wavy10.com and click on the Lesner Bridge traffic cam. You'll see us go under the bridge."
Me, "OK."
I went to the traffic cam and sure enough, there was a tiny boat approaching the bridge. I could just make out hands up and waving at me. Cute. I hit the refresh button and the boat had disappeared under the bridge. I hit refresh again and the little boat was on the other side of the bridge. Lydia invited me to go with them today, but I didn't feel up to it. Now, thanks to the marvels of modern technology, I got to see them waving at me from out on the water.
Saturday, June 4, 2005
The Recital
I always feel that when Benny makes a legendarily outrageous boy of himself, it's great. Lydia and Dan, on the other hand, agonize and groan and whatnot. With that in mind, this week Lydia has plied Benny with herbal extracts, predominantly valerian. Today was the violin recital.
Let's simply point out that Benny let down his fans. He has justly established a reputation as the boy to watch in Academy of Music recitals. I enjoy his antics and so do his many other fans. Today there was nothing to enjoy except this....he beautifully performed the most difficult piece played by any 5-year-old in the entire Hampton Roads area...and he played it superbly while behaving like a normal boy who feared for his life if he behaved badly at the recital. Woooo!!!! That valerian is serious stuff.
 
Thursday, June 2, 2005
Smelling Like A Kitchen
I woke up to the sound of the telephone. Lydia said, "I'll pick you up in 20 minutes."
Me, "Twenty minutes?Q@#$$%%@##!@"
Lydia replied, "Just get ready."
I hurried.
The van pulled into my driveway and Porque let off a series of doggie curse words.
With Porkee under my arm, I dashed out in the rain and settled into my nice leather seat in the van.
Shortly we experienced the driving of Lydia trying to get to her son's doctor appointment on time. Wow and yow. We made it with seconds to spare.
Benny entertained himself until his appointment with the Nintendo DS. He loves this electronic toy and according to Lydia, he plays all available games faster and better than she or Dan can play.
Eventually the doctor showed up. She said to Lydia, "Did you get my message about having to delay Benny's appointment today?"
Lydia replied..graciously..."No, but I seldon check my messages."
Long story short, the doctor spent several hours with Benny. She is attempting to evaluate his IQ. Every week she spends several hours with the dear little boy, "Playing games".
Sometime after noon, Benny emerged from the inner sanctom of Dr. Whoosit. Sadie had kept Lydia and me and all the other people in the waiting room entertained, and now she was tired.
We set off for out next destination...Hancock Fabrics. By the time we parked, Benny was deeply interested in the latest version of "Fantasia" and Sadie was asleep. Lydia said to me, "You go first and take your time." I bought a vest pattern for Benny with the Saturday recital in mind. When I came out, Lydia went in. She bought buttons for the anticipated vest.
As Lydia emerged, package in hand, Sadie awoke from her nap. We drove to the nearest McDonalds. Benny wanted ice-cream and french fries. Sadie wanted chicken nuggets. I wanted fries. Lydia wanted a cobb salad. We ordered and ate.
Then we went to Walmart for my printer ink and a new harness for Pork Chop. Lydia wanted to buy blue and orange play clothes for the children to wear at their fathers's upcoming bike races. We found these items. Walmart has everything. Along the way Lydia and I bought a lot of summer clothes for ourselves and the children...it's easy to do this when no item costs more than $5.00.
And then...Oh, thanksgiving...we eventually were on the way home in the van. I was so tired that I could hardly hold up my head. I said to little Porkee, "Small dog, it is time for us to take my nap."
Lydia chuckled, and Benny said, "Ahno, I'm going to come to your house with you because today is the birthday of George (one of Benny's imaginary friends) and he is so happy because we will make his birthday cake....right?"
To shorten the tale, Benny and I made
George's birthday brownies. I also made dinner for the Netzers. It was not the greatest meal..Spanish quiche, cheese broccoli, and crab cakes. The problem arose re. those crab cakes. I have eaten them frequently but never have seen a recipe and have never thought through the ingredients. By 6:00 P.M. all foods were ready to be eaten by someone somewhere on this planet, depending on that someone's degree of penury and want. Lydia and Sadie picked up the foods and Benny. I almost fell down on the spot...so tired.
Then I looked Pork Chop in the eye. I have had her here since the first of March eating out of one small sack of doggie food. Now it's almost finished. Seemed to me that I was selfish to work hard feeding one segment of my "family" while reserving a few remaining crumbs of dog food for Porkee. I literally tottered out to the ghetto grocery and brought home a dog food brand less sophisticated than those previously eaten by Pork Chop, but likely to be preferable to eating nothing until tomorrow. I put some in her bowl and she ate it, so whatever....
Now I am so tired that I can't sit here one more minute.
Don't Water The Dirt
The other day when Benny was here, he helped me water all my plants. Many, many plants. I assumed that he was watering plants until I saw that he just tossed water in the general direction of plants and most frequently missed. I said, "Benny! Don't water the dirt," which struck him as very funny. He did a little child's belly laugh, a wonderful sound. Then he proceded to deliberately do what I just told him NOT to do, all the while telling himself in a small imitation-Ahno voice, "Benny! Don't water the dirt," chuckle, chuckle, giggle, giggle, teeheeheeeee.
The water job gave me an opportunity to see that shortly I will be inundated with summer squash. My squash plants are the bush type and not very big, but each of them already has a handful of little squash growing out around the stem.
Also the lettuce is now ready to eat...such pretty plants...a lovely pale green, ruffly and frilly.
And, finally of the many green tomatoes, one is now red. Actually a red tomato, homegrown here in Norfolk, ripe before the first day of June. So my little farm in the city begins to produce.
In my daily walk with Pork Chop, I notice that I have kindred spirits. There are nice, highly individual flower beds at each end of each block and a number of them contain big, healthy tomato plants.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Very Beautiful Day
Some days are so wonderful that they surprise me from sun-up to bed time. That's because only good things CAN surprise me. I have seen so much awful stuff that I kind of expect BAD, and then a good thing happens and I'm just speechless, spitless and amazed. All day today was too good, just fabulous.
When I woke up, Lydia called and asked what I had in mind. I truthfully responded that nothing whatsoever was on my mind because I only just opened my eyes. I asked, "What's on YOUR mind?"
She said, "I planned today to take the kids to swim at the YMCA because both of them love that. At breakfast I told them we were going swimming. Benny worried, 'Can't we spend the day with Ahno instead? I want to go see Ahno.' "
Lydia, "But Benny, SWIMMING!!! You love that."
He reiterated, "Let's go to Ahno's house today."
Hearing this, I naturally yelled, "Take those kids to the pool and leave me alone!!!!" NOT!
Shortly thereafter Lydia and the kids showed up. Unfortunately I did not have the entire house vacuumed and disinfected. When I know in advance that the children are going to be with me at a certain time, I get the place sparkling clean. Not having had advance warning, they came into a house tht had not been especially cleaned and disinfected for them. Oh, well...
Immediately Benny wanted to play Playstation games. I said yes. Then I remembered that his mother was on hand and changed my tune, "Ask your mother. It's up to her."
Lydia OK'ed the video games.
As Benny played video games, Lydia worked on her blog. Baby played with this and that.
Finally lunch rolled around. I offered Stauffer's French bread pizzas. Lydia accepted on behalf of the children.
As the children played, Lydia worked on her website,and as the pizza baked, I cleaned fresh strawberries. I called to Benny, "Come here and try this berry. I want to see how many bites it takes to eat it."
Benny showed up to do kitchen research and we found that a really large strawberry requires nine bites for a little boy to eat it.
Sadie required almost forty-five minutes on the job as a pizza eater. Eventually she gave up, and when Lydia asked, "Would you like to take a nap?" Sadie nodded, "Yes."
Then Lydia went up to the work room with an armload of fabric. She said that Benny's violin teacher needs new cushions in her studio and asked Lydia to create them.
As Lydia sewed and Sadie slept, Benny and I created a concoction called Triple Chocolate Decadence. It required a great deal of discussion. Benny ended up doing all of the work. When our lovely project came out of the oven, Benny sniffed the chocolate smell hard enough to almost dredge up the entire beautiful treat as a scent.
About then Sadie woke up. Lydia and Sadie came downstairs and we all set out for a walk around the Yacht Basin. benny rode his bicycle. I pushed the stroller. Lydia took charge of the effervescent Pork Chop.
Past all of my favorite houses. Down by the Yacht Basin. On and on we went and it was all scenic.
After a long time, Benny asked, "Are we going back to Ahno's house?" and we turned around. On the homebound way, we used the water-side route.
On our side of the water was a sidewalk and grass and homes. Across the inlet were marinas and restaurants with outdoor, water-facing tables and live misic. Between us and the marinas were sailing boats small, big, huge, and ridiculous, coming and going to their berths. The sun shone. A cool breeze refreshed us. The baby gabbled happily. Benny obeyed all of Lydia's traffic strictures. One house had two free-range big dogs which threatened Pork Chop, but the owner was outside and made the dogs stop in time.
Finally we reached my house again. Benny and Sadie watched "The Incredibles" with me downstairs as Lydia tried to finish her project upstairs. I put supper for Lydia and her family into the oven...cleaned more strawberries for their dessert.
Then it was over. Lydia, the kids, all their stuff, the hot food, Benny's bicycle...it all went into the van. Pork Chop and I settled back for a rest. A lovely day.
Lydia said, "Really, Ahno. You live in a beautiful neighborhood." Right...except that as we came home from our walk, I noticed that a recent round of evictions at the yellow apartments has magicked a pile of matresses, a line of old, broken-down dressers/tables/chairs/etc at the curb across the street.
The Monkey Wants Me To Be Great
More about games...
When Benny plays Donkey Conga, I can not sit beside him and watch...which hurts his feelings because he likes to have an admiring audience. With other games, I'm right there. I can watch him fly through the rings in Spyro: A Hero's Tale for any amount of time. I can watch the races in Mario Cart almost indefinitely. Donkey Conga, though, is too painful to watch. Here's why. Benny choses a song and begins. Then the first beat in the song where he achieves less that a GREAT, he starts over. Once I believe he began "Bingo" more then a hundred times.
When I noticed this tendency developing, I argued, "The whole point is to enjoy the tunes, Benny. So play the whole song. Sure, you'll make little mistakes, but over-all you make a very high score and it's nice to hear the music."
He ignored me. After a while, I notched up the rhetoric, "Benny, if you start that song again, we're turning off the game."
Of course it made him very sad to turn off the game. So I retried persuasion, "You know, Benny, I love to sit with you while you play, and it's nice for me to watch you. I can't take it, though, when you do this start over thing again and again. It makes me miserable. Next time it happens, I need to go into another room and do something else."
At that point, he always promised me that he would not ever again start over. Then immediately he started over. The first time this happened, he looked wretchedly around for an ameliorative, "I have to start over, Ahno. You want me to play the whole song, but the monkey wants me to be great."
"The monkey?" I question.
"Conga, the gorilla," he points to the screen.
"How do you know he wants you to only get GREATS? Maybe he'd like to have you play the whole song,"
"No. When we play two tracks, HE only gets greats. He wants me to do that, too."
Well, hey. Far be it from me to force a child to disappoint a monkey. Who am I in comparison? I'm just the Ahno who gets BADS, MISSES, and the occasional OK when I play. Clearly, I am an unworthy role model and no one who wants to succeed should listen to me.
Now when Benny senses that I'm about to go into my, "No more starting over," he raises a cautionary hand, keeping his eyes on the screen, of course, and with his other hand doing the beats, says, sternly, "No, Ahno. I have to listen to the monkey."
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