More Family

Once again, my cousins are blasting past me with their bad-ass talent. While Rachael may be only rapping her winter dance invites, my cousin Zoe is tearing it up at the Yerba Buena Arts Center's Left Coast Leaning Festival on Thursday night. (I don't actually know if Zoe "tears it up"; based on what I've seen of her work, I don't think that's totally accurate. If you want to see what I mean, google her on YouTube, or "YouTube her" at zoe | juniper). Meantime, her sister Kate has artwork showing in PARIS! Paris, people, is in FRANCE! I have nothing in France! Nothing!

I need to go quell my inadequacies.

Brussel Sprout success

Thanks to Ella for this brussel sprout recipe. I tossed some pancetta in for good measure, but even without it, this recipe rocks. Also, you don't have to shred the sprouts. I ran out of time and just quartered them. Also, I didn't use a half pound of shallots, either. I used one and a half shallots.

In other words, I made a different dish based on this dish, which was excellent. I credit the original recipe and Ella for that success.

I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving. I have so many things to be thankful for that I won't enumerate them all, but thanks for coming to read my blog!

Nothing to report

But I have posted over at Fungus Everything. It's mushroom season, people.

Housekeeping

This blogging every day thing having been wildly unsuccessful, I will still try to prop it up with some not interesting posts, before giving up almost entirely.

What's in my head? That song that goes, "oooo, your body girl, makes the fellows go, oooo" rinse, repeat. It's driving me insane. I don't even know where it's from.

I need to find a good brussel sprout recipe for Thanksgiving.

T & A Lady has some great questions about the mammogram debate that I'd like to validate. First of all, kudos, all the right questions. I don't have all the answers but the problem with mammograms is something like this: 4 out of 1000 women under the age of 50 who are NOT screened will get breast cancer. 3 out of 1000 women under the age of 50 who ARE tested will be found to have breast cancer. That is statistically insignificant, and may cause to unnecessary further testing and procedures, which have non-negligible costs to the healthcare system. The cervical cancer screening debate (whether to get a PAP smear before age 21) is actually more troublesome, because in addition to the statistical insignificance of early detection, women who undergo an unnecessary procedure to remove benign tumors which may be found in screening (and which would otherwise go away on their own) may result in fertility problems. So now the unnecessary screening has created a health risk. I got all this from a New York Times article I read last week but which I am too lazy at this moment to hunt down.

But the whole debate points up something I find even more irritating and troubling and which I run into more frequently now that I work more closely with health care, and that is a lack of interest in, or understanding of, evidence-based medicine. Doctors have lobbied so hard to be taken seriously over the past 1.5 centuries, that we mistake them for scientists. And while many of them are, the practice of medicine is remarkably driven by intuition, litigation-avoidance and guesswork. Maybe most doctors in the fee-for-service model don't have time or access to peer reviewed data (not paid for by Big Pharma) and statistics that could help shape care. The particulars of this are interesting (to me) but the bigger point I wanted to make is the failure to view health care through this lens is one of many problems with the healthcare reform debate. Just irritating scaremongering.

We are here for Thanksgiving, hopefully doing lots of hiking, eating, running, movie viewing and trying to not get on eachother's nerves. Have a great holiday weekend.

Rogues' Gallery

Do You Ever Do This?

Sometimes when I am really bored, I employ one of two mind games to distract me. Both involve looking at people and imagining things about them, and both result in me getting completely creeped out. In one mind exercise, I look at people and imagine that they are on drugs. In the other mind exercise, I look at people and imagine that they are the opposite gender than the one they obviously present. Specifically, I look at men and imagine that they are women, and look at women, imagining them to be men. This largely results in me thinking, "That is a really pretty man" or "That woman is super masculine". In the other exercise, I just get creeped out/impressed by how many zombie-junkies there are that manage to get through the grocery store without freaking out.

The problem with this active imagination stuff is that it can be hard to stop doing once you start. Also, when you blog about it, your friends think you are really wierd.

Miscellany

I don't recommend this to my mother or mother-in-law. Wire fans, have at it.



This, on the other hand, should be right up the grandmothers' alley:



This was the hairstyle he had to have.

The Last Generation

I'm not given to wistful, generational hairsplitting, but after that Veterans' Day post, I've been trying to think of other things particular to "my generation" (in my mind, that means people born in 1974). Aside from not serving in armed conflict, what else is particular to us?

We are the last generation to follow the Grateful Dead. And there are probably precious few younger than us that religiously followed a jam band.* I never followed the GD or a jam band, and in fact openly ridiculed others who did, but still, at least it stopped with us.

We are the last generation to be born without a computer keyboard at our fingertips and the first generation to know what to do with one if we see it.

Okay, that's as far as I can get. Can you think of any others?

* For more on my views about jam bands, read this post.

The Things You Do For Love

Some time before college, probably around Christmas 1991, but possibly a year or two later, I got a pair of red plaid flannel pajama pants from my stepfather. These pants were very cozy, but so ugly that they were probably a contributing factor in why Mr. Scobie did not ever bust a move despite being my roommate for three years of our early adulthood. This summer, I finally threw them away, after many false starts (I actually rescued them from the trash and the fabric-for-quilts pile more than once). I got rid of them because they ripped, although that wasn't the deciding factor. I think I finally realized that I wanted Mr. Scobie to stick around longer than the pants, and was tired of hearing him ask that they be thrown away.

Well, Regret, thy name is the red plaid flannel pajama bottoms, because it is freakin' cold up in here.

My 801st Blog Post

Last night, I swear I was gonna blog but I fell asleep at 9:30. I should have done it when I got up at 4:40 am. I can't believe I am still awake right now.

A few months ago, I reported that I was starting a "boot camp" exercise class and that I would update you about that. I haven't - not because I haven't gone, but because I've taken it seriously enough that I don't have anything wry or facetious to say about it. In fact, I had boot camp tonight and it kicked my ass.

Probably not as much as real boot camp would kick my ass though. Reflecting on Veterans' Day today, I struggled to name even a handful of my friends and peers who have served in the military. Mine must be the first generation in history to claim that. We might be the last generation to claim it, too, given the number of people younger than I am who have enlisted and served during two wars in the past 8 years.

Part of me wants to go on a ramble here about Ehrenreich's Blood Rites (a really good book). But in honor of Veterans' Day, I'll just leave it at this. I am grateful to the men and women who serve in the military so that the rest of us don't have to, and for their sacrifices, which I doubt I can match off the battle field in any way.

Forget What I Said About Politics Fatigue

So there's one political race that has me interested these days, and not just for personal reasons. My father's race for Illinois state assembly became unexpectedly exciting today (well, at least to the incumbent). Turns out the incumbent might not have minded her Ps & Qs when she filed her election petition a few weeks ago. One of the funnier things about that link is that "blagojavich" is right there in the url. Even at its most technical and off-hand, the Sun-Times, and most other people, link Deb Mell to her more famous brother-in-law. That was Joe's first suspicion that she might be vulnerable. Being too careless to register to vote may turn out to be the bigger reason she goes home at the end of her term, though.

Trying to Explain a Couple of Things

My previous post inspired as much commenting as I typically get around here, and it seemed to be focussed on "why Twitter?" I thought I'd take a whack at explaining it. As Beth noted, blogging is like long-form Facebook - a regular status update for your far-flung friends and family. In other words, Nana, Facebook is short-form blogging, where you can follow the musings of your far-flung friends and family. I agree that if you don't really care what your sophomore year chem lab partner thinks about the weather/healthcare reform/her asthma, Facebook might not really be your bag. My answer to that is, unfriend her; I find the format to be easier to navigate than jumping around to people's blogs.

Twitter is like that, on speed. With a 140-character limit on posts, you really get bare minimum updates. Which is why Twitter isn't really for updates. At least not of the sort it was originally intended for. "Having coffee with no sugar this morning." "My hip implant is itchy!" and "ayn Rand R cool!" don't tell you much. Twitter is interesting as an exchange of ideas and the rapid fire news update. I learned about Michael Jackson's death, the Fort Hood shooting and the passage of healthcare reform faster on Twitter than from any other news outlet. In that regard, it's only useful if you follow the right number of people. Too many and you really can't follow what people are thinking. Too few and you don't get the "cloud" effect of everyone expressing themselves simultaneously. So what is the "right" number?

I have 325+ friends on Facebook, and only 35 followers on Twitter. I follow 99 people on Twitter. I estimate that only about 40 people regularly read my blog. That might be generous. In any case, I had to blog tonight and thought I would speak in defense of social networking for some reason. Mr. Scobie thinks that all these things are akin to being in the Matrix by the way (he encouraged me to "take the blue pill" today) but I think they just are what they are.

Blogging: Harder Than I Remembered

Ugh! Here it is November 6 and I've already failed to blog 2 days out of 6. And unless I blather on about my kids or how annoying I think phone conferences are, I don't have much to say. Other things you don't need to hear me say include:

• The shooting at Fort Hood is terribly tragic.
• Tuesday's election probably doesn't mean anything about Obama.
• It sure is getting chilly now that it's raining.
• Typing on the iPod is inferior to the Blackberry QWERTY keys, but its browser and apps are more functional.
• One shouldn't wait until 2:30 in the afternoon to eat lunch.
  
• The "point" of Twitter and Facebook continues to be lost on a lot of people, including my contemporaries, who are not the old farts they'd have us believe that they are.

Wow, the list of things I shouldn't blog about is almost endless. What should I blog about?

Carcetti's In Trouble

This Politic Wire headline O'Malley Could Face Trouble in Reelection made me chuckle. For you non-"Wire fans", the character Tommy Carcetti is widely believed to be modeled after Martin O'Malley, the governor of Maryland. That may be putting it too subtly. Other than getting a chuckle from that, I didn't have much response to this year's election. I just felt a deep, deep sense of exhaustion about this year's races, mainly because none of them concerned me directly. I didn't ignore them entirely, but my interest this year was a mere fraction of what it was last year. We have off-years for a reason.

The one race I am watching closely is the Illinois Assembly race for the 40th District. I've got my money on the dark horse. That's right, Joe Laiacona for Illinois' 40th Assembly District. Check him out, home slices.

The Birthday Boy

Liam turns 6 today. A lot of times when kids have birthdays, their parents say, "It seems like only yesterday (sigh) . . ." I don't fee like that. I feel like I've had this kid for a long time, and can't believe he's only been around for six years. I don't know why that is. It certainly isn't because he acts older than six. Maybe it's hormonal. Like at this point, having forgotten what he was like as a baby, I would be biologically conned into having another one. Well, that ain't gonna happen. Anyway, photo of the birthday boy to follow.

What I Blog About When I Blog About Blogging

Apparently, November is National Blog Posting Month. In order to counter my extreme inertia w/r/t the Internets, I thought I would informally participate. Not sure why. But it means I will try posting at least once a day through the month of November.

The title of this post doesn't mean anything, by the way. It's a riff on What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami, which I just finished reading. That title is itself a riff on What We Talk about When We Talk About Love, by Raymond Chandler, which I haven't read, and probably won't, since they are short stories and I don't read short stories. But anyway, the Murakami book was pretty good. I don't really like him as a novelist but he's very approachable and likable as a memoirist, and I am trying to turn myself into a runner so I liked the sustenance it provided in that regard.

And so why am I doing that?, you are probably wondering. Or actually, you are probably thinking, Why are YOU doing that? And I don't think I have any particularly novel reasons. I wanted an efficient exercise option, and I got myself strong enough to do it, so in August, I just started. And I like it, and it feels good, and I want to keep doing it. And in order to take it from just an exercise to something that I keep doing, I feel the need to give myself the new identity of runner. Because if you call yourself that, you have to do it. If you call yourself a runner and don't run, then you are really just an a-hole, and lying.

It also feels good to get to age 35 and find that you have new things inside of you that you can be. I want to keep finding new things inside of me. It makes me feel young, which strangely I have been feeling a lot of lately. I thought that I went through "so much" as a kid, and thought I was "so mature", but now that I have rounded the bend of this decade and see 40 on the distant horizon, I feel like I've had a pretty great life and not experienced much at all. At least not many bad things. And in order to keep having new experiences, you have to keep yourself open to being a new person, or at least having new parts of yourself. All of this dawned on me this weekend because I finished Murakami's book, and its sort of about that, and also because a friend tricked me into running 4.5 miles on Saturday, and it wasn't that hard, and it felt great, and it almost felt like I had run through a wall (3 miles) that I didn't know I had put up for myself. Which means there are other walls that I can run through, if I just let myself.