the DronesClub	the smackdown	Fierce Creatures	Little Blenheim	Barmy in Wonderland	the dernier cri

The unpleasant, acrid smell of burnt poetry.
Young Men in Spats, 1936

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March 31, 2009

9:21 p.m. - Long day. I went to the Ford Birthsite Neighborhood Association this evening. It was a LOOONNGG meeting, but the members are passionate about continuing to fight the good fight. You've got to admire that. Meanwhile, I'm exhausted.

Jennifer is playing next door at Julie's house, and I'm getting reacquainted with an old friend called television.

11:33 a.m. - This morning was the Neighborhood Center's 1st Mayor's Breakfast, honoring Mayor Fahey for being "the Neighborhood Mayor." The staff at the Neighborhood Center pull off a truly well-done event with some major hitters from the business and political community being among those present, and I am extraordinarily proud to be on their Advisory Board. To quote the Assistant Director, a remarkable person

The nation is only as strong as its states. The states are only as strong as their cities. The cities are only as strong as the neighborhoods.

Well said. And the Neighborhood Center is all about creating strong neighborhoods. 

At any rate, I wound up sitting by the current President of the Ford Birthsite Neighborhood Center and the past President, who said: "You are going to tonight's neighborhood association meeting, aren't you?" I guess I am. Which is a good thing - I really do need to be a better part of the Ford Birthsite Neighborhood Association.

March 30, 2009

The solar flare that promises to devour the Earth. Thanks, Jennifer, for pointing it out.

12:15 p.m. - Jennifer has this thing for disaster movies. We saw volcanoes destroy the earth this weekend, followed by earthquakes, polar ice caps, solar flares, and I'm not certain there weren't locusts in the mix, as well. If Sci-Fi can make a cheesy movie about a world-destroying disaster, Jennifer is there. Remember the one about the earth's core ceasing to spin unless our intrepid heroes detonated some kind of special nuclear bomb deep in the earth's underpants? Saw that one. Asteroids - saw that, too. Comets, check. Tidal waves, yup. 

So imagine my surprise when she sent me an e-mail this morning, with a link to a NASA article about solar flares that have wreaked havoc on the planet in 1859, and could do so again at any moment:

Once in a while--exactly when scientists still cannot predict--an event occurs on the surface of the Sun that releases a tremendous amount of energy in the form of a solar flare or a coronal mass ejection, an explosive burst of very hot, electrified gases with a mass that can surpass that of Mount Everest.

She loves for that kind of thing! I'm not quite as big a fan of destructive calamities and disasters. It's the practical side of me. All I can think of is the headache and bother of having just finished our house, only to have the city/continent/planet destroyed by an inconvenient volcano or earthquake or comet. Or worse, having to pick up debris. I don't even think we have a rider in our insurance policy to cover any of the above - considering what a bother it's been just dealing with the June 2008 windstorm, I can only imagine the headache involved settling a claim relating to roof damage due to passing comet. 

March 29, 2009

4:30 p.m. - Twenty minute Sunday nap. Ahhh, perfect. Jennifer's availing herself of 20 minutes now. So are the puppies.

Arabella is on guard duty

1:22 p.m. - It has been fantastic having a weekend without any Masonic events, work events, or Garden events. I could get used to having a weekend all to myself! Unfortunately, Jennifer has not been feeling her best, but we've managed to have a really enjoyable weekend in spite of it. On Friday, we splurged and picked up a Papa John's pizza - not my favorite, but Jennifer really likes Papa John. We had a relaxing evening and just stayed in.

On Saturday, I was up at the crack of dawn and headed off to the Omaha Postcard and Paper Show, with a pocketful of coin. I got the Omaha Past and Present book, John Carter's book of Solomon Butcher photographs, two Omaha Bee newspapers from the turn of the century featuring Masonic-themed covers, and the first volume Omaha World-Herald book of old Omaha photographs. What fun! I could have lingered all afternoon, but I figured I'd stop while I was ahead. Most of the exhibitors were there to sell postcards which are not my thing, but they had some very interesting pieces of local history.

Afterward, I stopped by Central High for the open house. I don't think I've been in the school since graduation. It's nice that they haven't entirely mucked the place up with innovations and changes, except for making the old gym into the cafeteria (smelled like a high school cafeteria. yech.) and the new football stadium. I ran into "Doc" Moeller, the principal which was nice. He is an institution and a legend himself among students of the nearly 30 years he was principal, just as older alumni would remember J. Arthur Nelson who was principal before him. I walked the halls and enjoyed seeing rooms of beloved or hated teachers. I met Orville Menard, class of 1951, who has written, researched, and lectured about Omaha history - that was quite a treat for me! We spent about 30 minutes talking about Boss Dennison, who ran the town for about 30 years in the early 1900s. I bought a Central High pullover - yeah I know, dorky Alumni wearing high school gear, but I never had any Central stuff in high school, so I figure I'd show the school spirit and wear the pullover on occasion. What the heck? It helped support the school. I also bought a lottery ticket, but I don't think I won the $1,000 grand prize.

Jennifer still wasn't feeling great when I got home at about 2:00, so she continued to rest while I took the dogs outside. I sat outdoors minutes, smoked a pipe, and let the dogs run around. Arabella contented herself sitting on my lap, Percy rolled around in filth, and Gryffindor found himself a patch of sunshine to sit down in. It's been unseasonably chilly this weekend, so I stayed bundled up and 30 minutes was more than enough. In the evening, I picked up dinner from Greek Islands for Jennifer and myself, and we had a quiet evening. She went to bed early, and I pottered around until I fell asleep at about 11:30. Percy woke me up at 3:30, the little beast. I let him out and he went right back to sleep, though I tossed and turned for about 2 or 3 hours.

Nicholas Cage in Knowing

This morning, we went to see Knowing, starring Nicholas Cage. I've always said he is a competent actor, one of the best. But what movie will he not make? They must drive a dumptruck full of cash to his house and he'll take the movie, script unseen. This was awful! The premise was interesting: a girl in 1959 writes a page full of random numbers, which winds up in a time capsule. Nicholas Cage is an astrophysicist (of course) in 2009 and gets the page, which he interprets as predictions of the last 50 year's worth of catastrophes: 9/11, plane crashes, etc. He's left to puzzle out the next disaster. And you know it's going to be a doozie. That doesn't give away the movie, but what you'll want to know is that getting up mid-movie to go pee is the best part of the film. To quote the Boston Globe (because I can't improve on Ty Burr), Knowing "starts off mildly ridiculous, ascends to the full-blown ludicrous, and finally sails boldly off the edge of the absolutely preposterous." Well said, Ty. About half the movie seems to be filmed in a jerky in-your-face style, to give you a sense of being right there, or to keep you leaping from scene to scene without time to think about gaping plot holes. Cage is a truly talented actor, and he keeps even the worst movie from sucking beyond all measure, but he must accept his roles without looking at the script if the check is sufficiently big enough.

A scary old hag walks into a bank and applies for a loan. Hilarity ensues.

There was a preview for a horror movie, called Drag Me to Hell. The premise is that a young banker turns down a creepy old woman's plea for a mortgage loan extension, and the old hag curses her. All very creepy. Fortunately, Justin Long is there to keep it light, or so I would assume. Or to sell me a Mac. At any rate, scary monsters and terror ensues. The point is, and mark me closely here, it seems to me to be common knowledge when creepy old hags with eyeballs of markedly different colors comes into your bank, you don't turn down requests for loan extensions. You say yes. I mean duh! Then again, the old lady put a lot of time into perfecting ancient curses. She could have put some of that extraordinary effort into paying off the friggin' loan! Conjure up some money! Get a freakin' job! No wonder the economy is in the shape it's in!

Which brings us to present day. It's 2:00, and we've still got the entire afternoon before us. Jennifer had to abort a mission to the paint store and is convalescing nicely (How bad a husband am I to welcome the opportunity to not pore over paint chips at my wife's expense? I so owe her a gyro later.) I am going to collar the monsters, saddle them up, and take them for a walk around Field Club. It seems to have warmed up above polar temperatures this afternoon, and a light jacket should be sufficient.

March 27, 2009

We'll soon be ineligible to be the "Before Restoration" house on the Restore Omaha tour.

9:07 p.m. - Exciting times at the Evans Ranch. The wallah started scraping paint along the eaves and fascia prior to repairing, priming, and painting. He also stripped the first layer of siding from the southeast corner, exposing a layer of heavy felt bolted down with big, heavy, industrial nails. Tim wondered why the hell I haven't started heaving the felt off to see underneath. I would, but the 60 years of asbestos dust that have settled into the felt keep my natural curiosity and enthusiasm at bay. I'll just have to wait until Monday for the fellow to come back. I reckon after 7 years of patience, we can wait a few days longer to see what's underneath that backing. The really exciting part is that we are nearly at the end of the stuff we have to do and can concentrate on the stuff we want to do. To give you my glass-is-half-empty perspective, I'm still playing tug-of-war with the insurance company over the last of the settlement regarding the June windstorm. I submitted the invoices, but haven't heard so much as a courtesy howdy-do from them. I'll chalk it up to the blizzard pounding Denver, but the excuse is mighty thin.

Friday night. Jennifer is not feeling too well this evening, so she's horizontally casual. I had kind of hoped to go out and boost the local economy. Except for some unseasonable chill tonight, I'd at least sit outside with a glass of something decent and admire life in the late 19th century. (Incidentally, I bought a bottle of Graham's 10 year old tawny port about 2 months ago, and finally had a beaker-full. It just rolls around the tongue, smooth as silk.)  Tomorrow, I need to be up bright and early to get a jump start on the Omaha Postcard and Paper Show.

March 26, 2009

Sancto sanctorum

Percy and Arabella are both fast asleep

Sequel to Jennifer's eyebrow raising at my sweet acquisition of the 1856 and 1867 Colton maps. Jennifer found a 1915 geological survey that's kind of interesting. I tend to pass over modern maps like this, but it is an interesting topographical survey. So my crimes against the exchequer have been mitigated by her doing likewise. This Saturday is the Omaha Postcard and Paper Show, so I have a feeling I may land on the wrong side of the ledger again. On the other hand, my status as a world-class super power will be solidified with She if I bring home the holy grail, the prized 1854 Colton pocket map of Kansas and Nebraska. It could happen - I'm celebrated in certain rarified circles as the fellow who discovered the 1885 Evert and Kirk map in Walnut, IA and bought it for less than the English paid for Manhattan.

Meanwhile, Victor and his merry band have been contracted to begin work repairing the exterior wood trim and fascia. The good man tried to justify to me a new guy on his team - I told him that all I needed to hear was that he had Victor's seal of approval, so confident I am of Victor's expertise. The man is a craftsman in the truest and most noble sense of the word, so I am excited to have them begin on the house. Part of the work includes removing the shingles on the southeast corner of the house to see the condition of wood beneath. I can't wait to see myself, and this will fire me up to tackle the restorations. In 2004, Restore Omaha featured our house as the Before Restoration house. Next time Restore O comes back to the 'hood, I want to be the After Restoration house. Excited!

A conversation from last night:

Jennifer: Is there anything you want to tell me?

Self: [uh-oh] No.

Jennifer: Are you sure you don't want to tell me anything?

Self: [digging deeper- oh, shit] I love you, honey?

Jennifer: Micah. . . Was there something about an 1856 Colton atlas map? 

Micah: [busted! - deer in headlight look, shortly before an intimate meeting with the on-coming semi] Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you about that, didn't I?

Jennifer: And. . . 

Micah: [shit eating grin at moment of impact between deer and semi] There might have been an 1867 Colton to keep it company.

Jennifer: [expressions of exasperation]

12:00 p.m. - A chap can't be expected to inform everyone about all his business wheelings and dealings, can he? I'm here, I'm there, I'm hob-nobbing, I'm fraternizing. I couldn't be held to informing the Missus about our investments in minute detail. I would have got around to it eventually. And that's what these beautiful maps are - investments. One day, she'll applaud my foresight and wisdom when we're being fêted by Society at the museum during the grand unveiling of the Micah and Jennifer Evans Cartographic Collection.

I read on CNN this morning that the roar goes up among the hemp-wearing crowd to turn off power for an hour in commemoration of Earth Day. I think I'll decline to participate, not out of disrespect for Earth Day, but because it's a futile gesture of conservation. I'd rather amend my life so that I'm doing something more meaningful all year rather than making a point for .0001% of the year. That said, the article called for responses on what readers would do for an hour without power. Oh my! What horrible privation they're being asked to undergo! They'll be reduced to cannibalism, debauchery, and savagery for that one hour without their televisions or Wiis. They may have to resort to batter-powered devices (which somehow defeats the purpose of an hour without power). So what would I do? When we were without power last June after the windstorm (you'd be surprised how quickly it gets dark, even in the summer), I'd sit on the porch and read. I'd take the opportunity to read and relax outside with the dogs for the hour. Thankfully its only for an hour. 3 days without power - no thanks! That wasn't as much fun. 

March 25, 2009

1867 J.H. Colton map of Nebraska

10:03 p.m. - The only upside to this economy is that maps seem to move for their appropriate value. $10 for an 1867 Colton map of Nebraska. Nice! All things being equal, an 1867 map of Nebraska isn't that interesting. Not too different than the Asher & Adams atlas from 1871, but for once I can honestly say that I didn't already have this one. It's not often I come across something new in my quest for the 1854 Colton pocket map of Nebraska & Kansas. In my usual glass-is-half-empty outlook, I'm going to have to find a few days this summer and re-catalog my entire collection.

Meanwhile. . . tonight was the Board meeting at work, so it was a long day. I don't often mention the office, but I give my boss mad props, as the kids say, for making the Board meeting move along and stay light, interesting, and informative. And fun. I got home at about 6:00, and Jennifer made the tastiest asparagus and rib-eye steaks we've had in quite a while. Afterward, I vegetated and watched television. 

March 24, 2009

10:01 p.m. - My mind is a horrible place. I like being there sometimes. We went over to J's to feed her cats while she's out of town, and I left her Spongebob Squarepants keychain and a small sheep sculpture on her kitchen etagere in flagrante delicto. I wonder how long before she notices. I wish I had taken my camera.  I also liberated some steaks that we put in her deep freezer last June after the big windstorm.

Jennifer made flax seed pancakes for dinner tonight, normally a tasty treat. Let's just say the flax has made itself at home, kicked off its shoes, and plans to linger. I feel like I have a cannon ball in my colon.

March 23, 2009

1855 Colton map of Boston

David Sears 1849 plan for the Back Bay

2:10 p.m. - A little bit of crowing, boys and girls. I won a dirt cheap eBay auction for an 1855 Colton map of Boston. Yes, yes, yes, I know - you needn't remind me that I have a stack of them as thick as my arm. But it's not this map. There are two versions of the Colton map. After many years of unsuccessful effort, I have laid my mitts on the 1855 Colton map of Boston with the representation of Silver Lake, a mythical lake planned by Boston architect David Sears in his 1849 proposal to develop Back Bay. This plan never came to fruition, but the man made lake was incorporated on this particular edition of Colton's map of Boston, published in 1856, but not in the latter editions of the map. I had to e-mail a contact at a Denver map store for information on the two Colton editions, and I'll report back.

Subsequent investigations found the 1838 Thomas Bradford map of Boston for $350. If I wasn't kept under control under my wife's watchful eye, I'd drop that amount in a heartbeat for a second Bradford map. I've got one already, but why have one when you can have two. I did not find my beloved 1854 Colton pocket map of Nebraska/Kansas. One day, she'll walk into my life, and I'll have her at any price. Once I have the 1854 Colton pocket map, I could retire from map collecting as the undisputed king of Nebraska/Kansas maps. Or rather, I'd enter into the new field of early American maps.

7:29 a.m. - I slept horribly last night, and didn't really fall asleep until about midnight. And I kept waking up any number of times during the night. The room was too stuffy, and I wanted to open the windows but I thought it might get cold over night. Oh well. . .  up and at 'em. Off to work.

March 22, 2009

Oooh, arty picture!

9:41 p.m. - Another busy day. Jennifer worked the orchid show, and I looked in for a little while this morning. There seems to be a segment of society that goes absolutely ga-ga over the little orchidaceae. They are moderately interesting plants to me, and I can take them or leave them alone. I viewed the orchid foamers. They viewed me. And the world continued spinning. I followed my orchid viewing with a walk around the gardens, taking various pictures with different settings. I always seem to be at the garden on an overcast day. At least the garden was cool and quiet. As I was coming back, I passed a woman yakking on her cell phone. In a perfect world, I should have clubbed her with her dorky floppy hat for bespoiling my walk with her gibbering. What call is so important that it requires ruining my peaceful nature walk? What if I had stumbled on a new philosophy, and her cell phone conversation ruined my train of thought? I'm not saying it did happen, but it might have happened, and that, to me, justifies violence.

Having taken my leave of the Omaha Botanical Garden, I spent the rest of the day, more or less, continuing to make a dent in the mountain of spring cleaning. The little room upstairs seems to become the dumping ground for blankets, winter clothes (or spring, depending on Solistice), books, and other detritus. I assembled two boxes of books, threw away a lot of random accumulated junk, and at least made it possible to enter the room without having to step over things. We'll figure out what to do with all those blankets later - how did we get so many? Do blankets breed when you're not looking, or do mis-matched socks come together and congeal into new blankets? Or do we just pick them up along the way? I discovered bolts and bolts of cloth Jennifer bought to make placemats or tablecloths with. Foolish me, I turned them in to her rather than discreetly throw them out. Unfortunately, the Victorians were not big on storage space in the 1890s, and closets are one things this house sorely lacks.

In the evening, I grilled burgers for dinner. Afterward, Jennifer made a beeline for the bath and then bed, and I've been watching a bit of Sunday television. I'll run the dogs out shortly, and try to ravel the sleave of care myself. Tomorrow, if my calculations are correct, is Monday again. Yergh.

March 21, 2009

7:57 p.m. - For a day with no work events, no Masonic events, no family events, its been a busy day! I'm beat. Jennifer was up at the crack of dawn for the orchid show, and I got up at about 7:15 a.m. I guess that's sleeping in for me. She shoved off to work, and I got crackin' on my day. I started with a visit to Aldi's in Council Bluffs for some groceries. I've been working on various house projects all day thereafter. Victor stopped by and I paid him for the chimney (that puts me at $10,920 and counting in house projects thus far, and it's still March!) and we talked about the next round of projects in March/April, including replacing wood on some of the window sills, stripping, painting, and painting the eaves damaged in last June's windstorm, and possibly beginning a bit of restoration on a section of the house. I did some cleaning in the basement, laundry, and filed or threw away a ton of papers. So much to do - how does all this accumulate over the winter! Fortunately, it was a beautiful Spring day, and I could have the windows open all day. I brought the laptop computer downstairs and spent the afternoon blasting Dropkick Murphies, Flogging Molly, and even a bit of Bob Dylan while I toiled. I'll do more of the same tomorrow. I did take some time to sit on the porch, read, and smoke a decent briar. I've been waiting all winter for that!

Jennifer got home after a long day, and we sat outside for a while and enjoyed the weather while the dogs ran around. In spite of my weariness she convinced me to pick up cheeseburgers from King Kong. That would have been a journey of loved except for the fact that I am gastronomically exhausted. I never want to see meat again. Ever.

Why?, says you.

The Bacon Explosion: a once in a lifetime recipe

Because I made a bacon explosion, says I.

Yes, the Bacon Explosion. I did it. I should have run the other way the moment I laid eyes on that cursed recipe. The problem is that it worked. Perfectly. Flawlessly. The Bacon Explosion is one pound of bacon, crafted into a mesh. Then smothered in at least a pound of breakfast sausage. Then seasoned. Then filled with grated cheese. Baked for 2.5 hours at 400°, covered with tinfoil to prevent splattering. My God, when I finished it was a thing of perfect beauty. It was gorgeous. It is a solid block of breakfast meat. I had a tiny nibble. (really, it was a tiny taste.) And then my arteries immediately filled up, and I was logey for the rest of the day.  I had to work reasonably hard just to digest the little taste I had.

I'll never make this again. This is a once in a lifetime kind of thing, and this was the once it was a lifetime in. Of course, if I do make the bacon explosion again, I'm going to stuff it with either spinach and Asiago cheese or else I'll stuff it with barbecued pulled pork, just to give it flavor. This is a recipe that will make a vegetarian out of me. Never again. I'm going to send a chunk of Bacon Explosion to work with Jennifer to give her co-workers.

Meanwhile. . . It's approaching 8:30. Jennifer is beat after a long day and has retired for the evening, and I'm left to potter around. I'm watching a show on the History Channel about some dumbass counterfeiters who tried to steal Abraham Lincoln's corpse.

March 19, 2009

The new chimney looks much better than the Dr. Seuss version.

The chimney guy has two new friends.

8:05 p.m. - There's always something going on. Tonight was the committee meeting to plan the October Friends of RiteCare Dinner. It was a lot more organized than last year, which I appreciated though we never seem to get right down to business. At least it began on time and ended on time.

I got home at 6:30. Jennifer had a rough day, so we sat outside for a while and enjoyed the backyard. The chimney guy came in and of course the dogs barked their little heads off at him. Jennifer went inside and cut a few cheese squares for him to give the dogs. As soon as they learned he was the Bearer of Treats, they fell all over themselves to be his friend. Percy flipped on his back for a tummy rub and was his bestest pal.

The new chimney looks fantastic, and I could not be happier with it. It looks better than any tuckpoint could have been, and it's not often you hear this, but I am proud of my chimney. Jennifer and I were standing out front admiring it and Tim and John came out, so we chatted a while.

8:55 a.m. - I think I may be becoming a fanboy, one of those ravenous comic-book reading types, who obsesses over whether the movie captured the essence of the comic. I found myself wanting to go to the comic book store with Jennifer last night, and looking at additional graphic novels to read after having finished The Watchmen. The owner gave me a few must reads, including Fables, Transmetropolitan, and Alan Moore's League of Extraordinary Gentleman (which fortunately, is not remotely as crappy as the movie with the same name). I came out of the store feeling like a sleazy guy wearing a stained trenchcoat, sheepishly emerging from a peep show. Maybe they'll but my comics in an unmarked, brown paper bag for me next time so no one knows where I've been. I'm reading League right now, and we'll see how it goes.

Now that looks much better.

Meanwhile, the chimney guys came to begin chimney 2.0. They entirely removed the "Dr. Seuss chimney," as Marcus calls it, and are rebuilding the chimney correctly with bricks. I'm glad to have that monstrosity off my house. As I always tell contractors, look at Tim & John's house, and make it look like that. 

We went to Ruby Tuesday's last night, and I indulged in a tasty, tasty hamburger. Oh, how I loves me hamburgers. I also had the salad bar, and perhaps overdid it a bit. I am still utterly stuffed this morning, and my ample tummy has been angry with me for the last few hours. We got home around 8:15 and watched Lost, which was really good. The episode was good, but all this slinging back and forth through time is a bit silly, and its leaving me dizzy. We'll see if they can pull everything together and make it make sense.

The weather begins to grow warmer, finally. It's nice to hear the robins chirping in the morning, daylight lasting longer and longer, and the dogs are enjoying being able to run around in the backyard again. Jennifer is toiling this weekend at the orchid show, and I plan to look in to say hello, but also to do some of the much needed cleaning which we neglect over the winter months.

March 18, 2009

The black smudges around the roof are where the original roofing stopped. They still need to put flashing behind the roof shingles and re-install a gutter here.

7:42 a.m. - The roofers are finally done. Mike called me up a day or so ago to tell me that the back porch was in horrible condition - layer upon layer of shingles over board over shingles over board, and it would all have to be rebuilt. Fine. Then he calls me up to say that the front porch is rotting from the inside out. Snow is getting in, and the joists are in poor condition. Another heavy snowfall or two, and phoosh! the front porch roof collapses. Fine. $1,000 in repairs. So they spend another day tearing apart the roofs, making a huge mess of things, and rebuilding them. There were so many layers of board and shingle on the back porch, the new roof is a few inches lower than the old. They finished rebuilding the two porch roofs last night and they did a phenomenal job of cleaning up. I am very satisfied right now. 

Meanwhile, Victor called and says the chimney guy is coming to rebuild the chimney. That is good news, but I hope he's going to wear diapers on his feet and silken mittens on his hands while trodding on my brand new roof. I hope he's more careful up there than last time. Sigh. . . these building projects seem to go on forever. 2009 is going to be a rough year. 

Little else of interest. I went to Scottish Rite on Monday, but did not stay for the business meeting. I feel like having a break from Masonry to recharge my batteries. There's too much confusion. I can't get no relief. Businessmen they drink my wine and roofers reduce my worth. None of them along the line know what any of it is worth.

I finished The Watchmen this morning. Great story, and well-deserving of being on Time magazine's 100 top novels. The ending in the book was somewhat different than the movie, and I have to say that the movie's ending makes more sense, all things being equal, but it was a very good book nonetheless. I'll have to re-read it again to pick up the things I missed the first time through. 

March 16, 2009

8:42 a.m. - What a whirlwind weekend. Has it been 64 hours since I was in the office last? I guess so. Feels like 15 minutes, but then again, I’ve never met a weekend that was truly long enough.

These guys are making great progress - noisy progress - on the roof.

We had a quiet evening on Friday. Neither of us felt like cooking – in spite of our dictum about eating frugally at home more often – so we went out to the Chinese buffet which was good. As I always say, never think too closely about what you are eating or how it’s made, and it will be tasty. We stopped at Legend Comics on the way home and I bought the Watchmen comic, in preparation for the movie. I’m still reading it, and its really good.

Jennifer must have had too many carbs, because she zonked out shortly after we got home, and I watched Battlestar Gallactica (ahh, tradition!) and went to bed.

Saturday – had a KSA meeting in the morning, followed by Masters & Wardens meeting. I came home afterward, and puttered around the house. We ran to the grocery store, but otherwise enjoyed a nice afternoon in spite of the roofers clomping around overhead. I tried reading outside to enjoy the sunshine, but it was still 45 outside – still too cold to sit outside quite yet.

Afterward, I went to Scottish Rite to help host the 357 dinner. Fortunately, I was at the “quiet” bar, serving just beer and wine, so we weren’t slammed as hard as the other bar which had beer, wine, and mixed drinks. It was a fun evening, with about 450 guests attending to support the Mobile Nobles fundraiser. Each year, they sell 250 $100 tickets, and of that, there is a $10,000 drawing for one lucky person. The Roadrunners club at the Shrine had the winning ticket this year. I enjoyed working the event, and I enjoyed the prime rib as well. Perhaps too much – I was so full, I could have been wheeled out. It’s a great event – a long evening without working too hard, but a lot of fun.

The Watchmen: The Comedian

On Sunday, I was like a kid at Christmas, up at the crack of dawn and ready to go to see The Watchmen. What a movie! It didn’t deviate from the comic that much, and it was very well done. I am not going to review it – that task is too much for me. Suffice it to say, The Watchmen is a sweeping story. In essence, an aging masked hero is murdered, and another masked hero investigates. It is an alternate universe, where Nixon is the popular 3-term President, America won in Vietnam with the help of a superhero, and the Soviets are on the brink of causing WWIII by invading Afghanistan. Superheroes, once the darling of the 1940s are outlawed. Most have retired to their private lives, and one continues his masked vigilantism on the fringes of society and legality. I can’t even remotely do justice to the movie except to say Wow.

Afterward, we lounged around the house again. I picked up gyros for lunch. We both tried napping at various points in the afternoon, but the roofers put an end to that plan. Jennifer played on the computer, I read the Watchmen. Then she’d channel surf and I’d play on the computer. We did a bit of laundry and otherwise had a quiet afternoon. I love Spring – the weather is warmer, we can take the dogs outside, and best of all, we can begin opening windows again and get the musty smell of pets and winter out of the house!

March 14, 2009

7:20 a.m. - We went out for Chinese last night, rather than sit around listening to the roofers banging overhead all evening. The quality fluctuates between awful and not so bad (if you don't think about it). Jennifer overcarbed and retired on the early side. I had taken a 45 minute lie-down at 5:00, so I was up for my traditional Friday night Battlestar Gallactica.

Jennifer bought me the Watchmen comics (aka "graphic novel"), which is actually pretty good thus far (I'm only about 5 pages in). I shall enjoy reading this as a precursor to the movie of the same name. Jennifer does not seem quite as enthused with going to the movie as I am, and tries denying it's existence. I think she'll bow to the inevitable and come see it with me tomorrow. I lurve my wife for the sacrifices she makes for my happiness!

Meanwhile, off to a KSA meeting, followed by the M&W meeting, followed by events. Break. Followed by bartending for the 357 dinner. It's going to be a long day.

March 13, 2009

2:29 p.m. - Tomorrow is March 14. 3/14. I just learned it’s Pi Day. Who’d’ve thunk it? Sucks to be Euler, who doesn’t get to celebrate February 7. I guess Sir Gaspard Pi, inventor of 3.14159265, had better public relations people than old Leonhard Euler did. What will those wacky mathematicians think of next? Prime Number Day on February 3? 

12:29 p.m. - CNN.com author Paul La Monica wrote an astute article about the mark-to-market accounting rules, requiring banks to record the fair market value of assets on their books. Thus, a bank looks like it is in a weak position when they record the value of a mortgage-based security on the books, particularly when those securities are effectively worthless right now. The banks have to take a huge loss on the books based on the weak position of those assets. 

A movement is afoot to allow banks to record some other kind of valuation on these assets. Perception, the article says, is reality. "The market believes that many banks are facing severe capital crunches because of bad assets. It's true that the values for these assets could, and should, eventually head higher." But how do you assign another value for these assets? If they market believes they are worth diddly-squat now, then they are worth diddly-squat now. If your books are a snapshot of your financial position at this point in time, then you really are in a weak financial position. Who's to say what they will be worth? Of course the executives will high-ball the assets! Ah yes, they'll be worth a million dollars later, so value them at a million dollars! Guessing at future valuations is a sticky wicket. 

However, if we don't use current values, what's the alternative? The undoubtedly rosy projections about future cash flows from bank executives, most of whom have done nothing to earn trust from investors?

"Companies are fighting for their survival and they want to use accounting to obfuscate their true financial position. Who's to say their view is more sound or fundamentally reliable than what the market thinks?" said Finnegan.

La Monica makes the apt observation:

If a baseball team is down 10-0 after nine innings, would anyone think it's a good idea to extend the game for nine more innings on the off chance that the loser might catch up - because the manager of the trailing team says his squad should eventually score 11 runs at some unknown point in the future?

Without ground rules to show the true financial picture at a point in time, the books become a crap shoot. Why not book sales on what they ought to have been or might have been? And who's to say what 'ought to be' or 'might be?' Executives, of course, with a vested interest in inflating the books and pocketing 30 silver in their bonus checks!

March 12, 2009

7:54 p.m. - The newspapers have taken great pains to point out that economizing has become the new "in" thing, which by association, would normally mean that I immediately reject it with disdain. For once, I seem to be leading the zeitgeist with my extraordinary hip-ness. Perhaps this is a new trend, and the Evanses will be the 21st century's answer to the Rat Pack.

The Evans boys: 21st century cool

<Bizarro Universe moment>
Does this mean that the teenagers and twenty-somethings will come sidling up to me and asking if that aging hipster in the plaid sweater vest is really my father. Yes, I admit, after pausing to consider the ramifications of my answer. Really, says the young twentysomething, with complete incredulity? Again, I consider my answer and answer that indeed, I am fils to his pere. Then they give me five in the style of Huggy Bear and tell me how cool he is, and where did he get those fine threads? Giggling college girls will beg for an introduction, and young men will sit around the coffee houses discussing Fermat and Euler.
</Bizarro Universe moment>

So where was I? Ah yes, frugality is the new extravagance. Everyone's doing it. We're becoming a nation of coupon clippers, the pundits say, and it's here to stay. Bah! Usual journalist piffle. Sure, it's cool to clip coupons and shop frugally today. For now, everyone is buying loss leaders at the grocery store or re-discovering the library, but the moment the economy blows the All Clear and the bonus checks begin flowing again, the marketing machines will begin cranking out the Need for New. They'll generate Want again, and you'll be a loser for not having the latest brand name.

   “When I'm watchin' my TV,
   And that man comes on to tell me,
   How white my shirts can be.
   But he can't be a man 'cause he doesn't smoke
   The same cigarettes as me.”

All this current talk about rejecting commercialism - that's what the current frugality is - is just a lot of buncomb. Sure the banks will begin lending money again with a tighter grip on the bottom line, but people will go back to the old ways of living life on credit's thin edge. The rubber band will snap back the moment the economy turns around. The Average Joe who is making do with his 1996 television or that pathetic little 8GB iPod will want the newest 60" television that's no thicker than a credit card, the latest electronic gadget that can download the entire Library of Congress, or the greenest car that goes 4,000 miles powered by their own smug sense of satisfaction.

Except, of course, for the Evanses. Jennifer has taken charge of our greengrocer's bill. My past habit of shopping by judging what looks tasty in my tummy are over, and she's poring over the adverts like a Rabbinical scholar over some particularly tricky passage in Leviticus. That's fine by me, since I never cared for grocery shopping. And regardless of the economy, we'll continue to sock more and more into the old oaken chest for the next economic downturn. Flash forward to 2012. I'll still be driving my shitty 1994 Toyota Corolla and working on my aging 2004 HP desktop computer with less memory than your nephew's iPod.

March 10, 2009

2009 Bad Dad of the Year award

5:27 p.m. - I've got some rants stored up for you, dear reader. First off, from the evening local news: a middle-class father robs several banks so he can keep his 17 year-old twins in private schools. Interviewed by the media, his daughter tells Good Morning America, ""He's my Robin Hood, taking from greedy banks and giving to his daughters who need."

WTF?

What did they need? Cars? Clothing? Since when did robbing from banks become a heroic endeavor? It's not like he was Jesse James gang robbing banks and destroying loan information for hard-up farmers. It's not like Pancho Villa seizing haciendas and giving them to peasants. This clown robbed a bank and kept the money so his kids could live in the style to which they had become accustomed. And if Daddy looked like a hero to his kids, all the better! There's the underlying selfish motive behind the robbery, not some noble goal of giving money to the starving poor. The fact that this guy's daughter could say that with a straight face makes her guilty by association, and she ought to share in his heroism by serving a concurrent prison sentence.

"Ah for the days when aviation was a gentleman's pursuit. Back before every Joe Sweatsock could wedge himself behind a lunch-tray and jet himself off to Raleigh-Durham." -Sideshow Bob

So I looked in on Dallas this past weekend for my grandmother's 95th birthday, which brings me to my second rant. What happened to those halcyon days when travel was something special? I'm not talking about the 1960s when you wore a suit and flight attendants were beauty models. I'm thinking back only 15 years or so, when I'd head back and forth to college. We wore blue jeans. We wore shoes. We wore shirts. We'd carry a backpack with a few magazines, a CD player, and a novel.

Those days are apparently long gone. All I saw was slouching, slovenly 20-somethings. The boys wore jeans that look like they would have been rejected by the homeless shelter as clothing for a scarecrow. And shirts that look like they hadn't seen a washing machine in years. The fellow I saw with on the Dallas to Chicago leg on my flight was awfully pungent. The girls wear sweat pants, flip-flops, sweat shirts, a gigantic bag that contains half of their worldly possessions, and their carry-on suitcase. They looked like they had just got out of bed and rolled into the airport.

And everyone yaks on the phone. All the time. I HATE cell phones! I could go on about the quality of airplane travel, but suffice it to say, it was a miserable experience. The flight crew and staff get major credit for making an uncomfortable experience as pleasant as possible, with patience and good humor.

But to return to Dallas. Good trip. Fun had by all. I got in Saturday afternoon. United Airlines bumped me off the flight to Chicago and put me on an American Airlines direct flight to Dallas. Well, gee whiz, throw in a free ticket, and I'll reluctantly accept your offer. I got to the hotel and was able to relax for a little while before Jeremy showed up. The Hyatt Place was very comfortable. I could get used to living like that. Then again, if you gave me a cardboard box under the bridge, it might be sybaritic comfort if you're away from barking dogs.

In the evening, we went to dinner to celebrate Becky's birthday. Ian surprised her with a giant cupcake with enough frosting to cause immediate diabetes. The young folk went out afterward, but I opted to call it a day. Spent a nice evening reading The Gate House by Nelson DeMille, and not taking dogs out every hour.

Grandma surrounded by nephews, nieces, daughters, sons-in-law, in-laws, and out-laws.

On Sunday morning, I looked in on the outlet stores in Allen, TX. Mistake! I picked up a pea jacket from Brook Brothers, a shirt, a pair of sunglasses, and a leather satchel. Hooray! I can finally retire that grotty LL Bean bag of Jennifer's I've been using for the last 7 years. After an early afternoon nap, we went out to Bugatti's for dinner. About 40 relatives from all around Texas came in to honor my grandmother's 95th birthday. Becky led the way, and the kind-hearted remarks quickly turned into a celebrity roast. Grandma took it in stride, and gave as good as she got. It was quite a fun evening. I sat with some of Mom's generation of first cousins which was nice, but I did manage to work the room, gripping and greeting. Of course, everyone had a fun time and my grandmother is hugely popular with cousins, in-laws, outlaws, nephews, and nieces. Everyone pledged to be back for her 100th!

I think we left by 9:00. Jeremy took me back to the hotel, and I read for a while and got ready for bed. I was up by 5:00 am, and at the airport by 6:00 for a 10:30 flight. Why so early? Because I didn't want to get stuck in Dallas rush hour traffic, that's why. The flight home was miserable. Jennifer picked me up, and I seem to be back in the old groove.

She's working late, and I'm watching the dogs. Pictures, of course, are already on the website, and you can re-live grandmother's 95th birthday here.

March 6, 2009

9:16 p.m. - Heading to Dallas tomorrow morning to visit my grandmother for her 95th birthday party on Sunday. I am looking forward to the trip, though it will be a long day of travel on Saturday and again on Monday. It will be fun to see my brother and cousins.

Meanwhile. . . I prepared for a day of travel by packing my bag last night and then working at the Scottish Rite wine tasting tonight. Never before has volunteerism been so tasty. The wines were okay (I liked the pinot grigio - the chianti and the other red weren't so good), but the dinner was awesome. I wasn't there long enough for the canoli, but long enough to shoot my diet to hell. It was worth it.

I'm home now relaxing, settling down to watch Battlestar Gallactica (whatever will we do when the series ends in a few weeks!) and fretting over last minute details for tomorrow's travel.

March 3, 2009

9:03 p.m. - You know why there's huge gaps between one post and another? Because I don't do anything of any interest. At all. To wit, I spent the better part of about 2 Saturdays ago doing my taxes. Fascinating, right? Well, I never bothered to file my Nebraska 1040N because damned if I'm going to pay $20 to have Turbo Tax file them electronically. I spent this evening keying the data into the NE Department of Revenue e-file program, and voila!, done! And I have $20 rattling around in my pocket. Or at least I don't, but you get the idea. And that, my friends, was my Tuesday evening.

Meanwhile. . . we roasted chicken for dinner with fresh green beans and salad. Yum!

March 2, 2009

3:13 p.m. - The Dow dropped 300 points today, closing at 6,763, the lowest it's been since 1997. I have officially lost money on every dime I've ever invested since Day 1, when I chucked my first dime into a Saga Holidays Fidelity 401(k). Had I simply put the money in a cookie jar, I'd've been better off. 

Winter in Nebraska is not for the faint of heart.

Okay, that's the fear talking. I know it's all psychology, and I'll be back to par in a rocky couple of years. I should be buying, buying, buying while the market is down and money markets are cheap. I know that I'll live through at least 2 or 3 more recessions before I retire. . . oh, to heck with the Sydney Carton stiff-upper-lip thing, the idea of this recession, to say nothing of future ones, scares the hell out of me!

11:43 a.m. - Except for getting up twice last night, I slept fairly well. But I'm still really tired. I think I'm getting old - I napped Friday, Saturday, and Sunday (ahhh, the luxury to take a nap whenever I like), and went to bed reasonably early all 3 days. I'd even say I slept in - but that is fairly relative. 7:30 am on Saturday, which is late for me. I'd've slept later on Sunday, but Crookshanks began mewing piteously for attention outside the bedroom door at 7:00 am. That said, I am still tired and could do with my mid-day nap now.

But much to do and many miles to go before I sleep. Florence Lodge's business meeting is this evening. Bleh.

I'm hard at work at the moment, but my eye keeps wandering to my spacious view of the parking lot where someone is having car trouble. Her engine is belching out huge amounts of smoke and she's pecking cautiously at the internals. I hope it doesn't explode. 

 

March 1, 2009

Gryffindor begs for a bit of chicken.

Freshly groomed Arabella. Her chemical symbol is QTPT2. Cutie Patootie.

Me at Oscar Night. Don't give up the diet just yet, mon amie.

2:52 p.m. - We have the most boring weekends ever. After lazing most of the morning, Jennifer went out with Julie to go shopping, braid hair, talk about boys, or whatever it is girls do. I went to Aldi's for a few groceries, shovelled snow away from the cars in the street, replaced the smoke alarms in the house, and did a bit of laundry. I'm catching up on a bit of news online. Since it's quiet around here, I think I may read a few chapters of Nelson's DeMille's Gate House.

8:53 a.m. - I've been a baaaaad blogger. I shouldn't be at all surprised or hurt if you've left me for some other person's tedious website. I deserve it. Blame the addictive world of Facebook, where you can trade content for a 1-sentence update about what you are doing and call it a webpage.

        Micah is shovelling snow and sitting with the dogs. (9:03 a.m.)

        Micah has had dinner. (5:43 p.m.)

        Micah is reading a book. (8:23 p.m.)

Riveting.

But it's so damn easy! And everyone I know is already there, hanging onto my 1-sentence status updates like pearls of wisdom. They respond, they question, they leave witty repartee, they banter. It's stychomathia, which Shakespeare could well appreciate. Ahhh, the world of Web 2.0. I do enjoy reconnecting with old friends, and laughing about those dioramas in Mrs. Palmasano's 3rd-grade class. (I've long since forgiven you, Jenny, for that kick-ass waterfall diorama that threw off the grade curve and kept me out of Yale. But I've never forgotten.)

Regardless, it isn't content. So I will again renew my ancient pledge to keep you updated on the minutiae of the Evans household.

It takes too much effort to fill you in on the details of the last two weeks. Let me bring you up on the big picture items.

• The chimney-wallah rebuilt and stuccoed my chimney! Who stuccoes a Victorian chimney. It looks retarded. Sure, it may withstand a Category 5 hurricane, but it looks retarded. And the flashing they used looks like deckplates from the USS Iowa bolted to the side.

• Oscar Night was a resounding success. A great deal of effort and time and volunteer hours went into the fundraiser dinner, and we had twice the people as last year and pound-for-pound, it was a home run.

• We had great weather. Then it snowed. Then we had great weather. Then it snowed. Right now, there is about 5" of snow outside and a windchill of -11°. It should be in the 50s or 60s by mid-week. And then it will rain.

• The economy has me stressed and scared. My retirement account has been decimated. Those who follow my ramblings know I track it in minute detail, plotting its growth and decline on a bi-monthly spreadsheet. My graph looks like a black diamond ski slope.

• Jennifer spent a delightful week in South Carolina, surprising her mother by showing up. She had fun, and I enjoyed a week of bachelorhood. Rather than engage in hedonistic orgies, I spent the week cleaning the house, primarily because a) I like a clean house, and b) I couldn't find any parties of the second part to fill the requirements of a hedonistic orgy.

There were other adventures in the two weeks, but most of them are lost to history. The Curious Affair of the Missing Three-Quarters, or the Adventure on Center Street. Historians will long research the Interesting Case of the Collar Stud.

So don't lose faith in the DronesClub. Keep checking back. I'll do something interesting today, and report back on it. I promise.