Shiner

Our yard is looking pretty ragged right now. Between my project last week (and yes, I am still planning to go into detail about it, give me time!), friends coming to town, and the wonky weather, we just haven't had a chance to get out and mow it the way it needs.

When I got up yesterday, the weatherman was predicting rain for yesterday afternoon through today. With that in mind, I decided that I would help Sammy out and go ahead and mow the lawn. I grabbed my old-lady-gardening hat and headed outside to the garage.

Currently Sam and I have two push lawnmowers--one from each of our fathers. Last summer we had issues with neither one working very well, but this spring Papa got one of them running for us. This was fantastic! Unfortunately, I couldn't for the life of me remember which of the lawn mowers was the working one. However, when I went into the garage, one of the lawnmowers was easily accessible and sitting next to the trimmer, while the other was clear in the back and difficult to reach.

Obviously, I went with the one that was with all of the other lawn tools.

I got it out, checked its oil and fuel, and decided it was ripe and ready to run.

I then proceeded to spend the next 10 minutes trying to get the bloody thing to run. I'd likely have stopped sooner and gone for the second mower, but on three separate occasions I did get it to turn over and start, but before I could increase the throttle it would die again.

Finally I decided I'd give it one last try. I'd primed it, pulled gently back on the pull start until I had tension, and then YANKED.

Next thing I know, something's whipping across my face and my glasses are flying across the yard. Somehow, in the course of pulling on the pull start, it got loose from my grip and pistol whipped me across the face.

Needless to say by the time I finally recovered my glasses, I decided I was done with that for the day and went back inside. Of course, when I talked to Sam later, he explained that the other mower was the working one, because he found it easier to take it out of the big garage door. Which makes sense, except I can never open the bloody thing.

Ah well.

Anyway, this morning, this is what I woke up to:

It's kind of hard to see in the pic, but I have one helluva bruise at the corner of my eye/temple of my forehead. o.0

Devil in the Details

Despite our best efforts and intentions, I still don't have a computer.

When we ordered all the pieces and parts for the new compy, we selected an AMD Phenom II six-core processor and an MSI motherboard. We also picked up 4 gig of ram, several fans, and a new case. Everything else we already had and could easily transfer over.

Wednesday night, before I'd even finished taking all of the dinner dishes off of the table, Sammy was pulling out his card table and starting to open boxes up. It had the general feeling of Christmas morning--lots of oooooh shiny moments.

It took about three hours, but soon enough we had everything put together, and it was time to turn it on for the first time. With great joy and trepidation, Sam reached out and pushed the power button.

The box lit up, the drives all indicated that they were happy and ready to go, the motherboard has all of its little lights come on... and no video signal.

This was frustrating, as it was problems with video that caused Frank to go buh-bye.

So we proceeded to do a couple of hours of troubleshooting, and eventually determined that even though everything has power, the hard drives were never being accessed. Did a little more digging and determined that the bios wasn't even pulling up.

We then commence on a bit of research. After delving through the manufacturer's websites for our new components, we soon figured out that even though the motherboard said it was compatible with Phenom II processors, it wasn't compatible with this particular Phenom II processor.

So what this means is that we've shipped the motherboard back and we're waiting for a compatible motherboard to arrive.

Oi vey.

Addendum

Should you decide that it is an excellent day to go out and take pictures of incoming spring-time, please remember to either a) take your keys with you or b) not lock the door behind you.

Thank goodness I had the back door open so Tiger could see out.

That is all.

My Brother's Keeper

By this point, I'm sure most of you have heard about the attempted assassination of Rep. Gabrielle Giffords in Arizona on Saturday which resulted in six dead and many more wounded. It's a horrific event, which is something I feel every person, no matter their creed, can agree on.

In the wake of the tragedy, there's been an instant, visceral response from both of the main ideologies in America. The left wing immediately started coming out decrying the violent political rhetoric which the right has been increasingly using over the past three years. The right wing's instant reaction was to reply that this man is obviously unhinged and how dare they presume that the right had anything to do with it. If anything his history suggests that he's a left-wing nutjob.


Watching it unfold, all I could think of was Cain's line to God in Genesis 4:9, when God is wondering where Abel is: "I do not know. Am I my brother's keeper?"

To me, that question goes to the heart of the differences between the right and the left. In any incident, no matter how great or how horrible, the ideology of the right says that they are not responsible for their brother, but only themselves. The ideology of the left would say that they are responsible not only for themselves, but for the life and conditions of their brother as well, and everyone should help whether they want to or not. For example, look at their views on things like market regulations, food stamps, climate control, gun control, unemployment, affirmative action... the list goes on and on.

With market regulations, the right insists that because everyone is looking out for themselves, people will act in their self-interest and won't do anything too detrimental, as in the end other self-interested people will react and make the instigator's business fail. The left replies that the other self-interested people wouldn't have enough power to truly affect the instigator, and so to prevent market failures regulations need to be in place to prevent people breaking the system. And back and forth and back and forth...

With food stamps/welfare, the right insists that by helping out those less fortunate, they're just encouraging those using welfare not to go back to work or improve their lives, and why should they have to pay for someone else's mistakes. The left replies that sometimes Bad Things Happen, and not having a safety net there to catch their brother when they fall will result in further Bad Things such as increased crime and poverty, and so You Should Help Them No Matter What. And back and forth and back and forth...

With climate control... well, you get the picture. Obviously, their views on these subjects have been simplified a bit to fit within the context (and length) of this post. Still, the underlying theme of their arguments, regardless of the topic, seems to run thusly:

Right: No matter what is going on, I am responsible only for myself. I do not want or need interference from anyone around me, especially the government, and I do not wish to involve myself in anyone else's problem, unless it affects me personally.

Left: Not only am I responsible for myself, but as a person I am also responsible for the common welfare of my fellow humans. As such, I need to make sacrifices and involve myself in the lives of those around me, regardless of their effect on me personally.

Of course, in real life people aren't generally this black and white, with people crossing over to one side or the other on various issues. But, again, we're talking about the underlying ideas.

And we can see it playing out in the discussion of rhetoric in the wake of the shooting.

The most obvious example that will get play again and again is Sarah Palin's website that had posted a map with gun crosshairs over various districts that Democratic representatives, including Rep. Giffords. Honestly, I doubt Ms. Palin ever intended or dreamed that someone may take that to mean that a person should go out and actually shoot one of the people listed on the map. And, to be honest, I doubt that her map had anything to do with why Jared Loughner attempted to assassinate Rep. Giffords.

However.

It very easily could have been. As Rep. Steve Driehaus stated last March (after then-Minority Leader Boehner suggested Driehaus would be a "dead man" for his vote on health care), "It doesn't really matter  the way you meant it, nor the way I accept. It's how the least sane person in my district accepts it."

It saddens me greatly that there are so many people who are unwilling to acknowledge that their words and actions, however indirectly, have consequences. If you tell people that a portion of the country (progressives) is a cancer that's trying to kill us all, that environmentalists are the same as jihadists, that having a revolution every now and then is a good thing, and to not retreat but instead, reload, sooner or later the odds are someone is going to take you seriously.

I don't hold with the idea that we should restrict people's ability to express their frustrations, even if it uses violent imagery. I do, however, believe that if you use it, you need to be prepared to take responsibility for your words.

I don't blame Sarah Palin or Glenn Beck for what happened. I don't blame Barrack Obama, or Keith Olbermann either. But I would exhort everybody, no matter their faith, creed, or ideology, to truly think about the power of their words.

Because I do believe I am my brother's keeper.

Jalapeños and Rubber Gloves

A couple of weeks ago, I decided that I wanted to try and make chili for Sam and I.

My Mama has made chili for the family every Christmas Eve for as long as I can remember. It's just One of Those Things(tm). If there's no chili, it's not Christmas Eve. (A post on various other Christmas traditions will be forthcoming at a later date and time.) And my Mama has always used Williams Chili Seasoning to make her chili.

Williams Chili Seasoning is such an ingrained part of my family's chili experience that periodically my parents will send my brother a package for Christmas that contains nothing but dozens and dozens of Williams Chili Seasoning packages. Scott is unable to find it out in his part of the country, and thus considers it a fantastic Christmas Present whenever he gets it.

Needless to say, my inclination for our chili was to get a seasoning packet and go to town.

When I casually mentioned to Sam that I was contemplating making us chili, he immediately lit up like a child on Christmas morning when they're finally allowed to open all of those presents. (I'm taken to understand that some families force their children to wait until after Christmas Dinner to open their presents. That was not how I was raised. But again, that will be a post forthcoming at a later date and time).

"You're going to make it from scratch? Right? I mean, I've never really cared for the prepackaged mixes, and you're so good at making stuff..."

That was Sam, by the way.

Also, that may or may not be an exact quote of what he said. But that was the general gist.

Anyway, I started crying on the inside, but unwilling to show fear to my beloved, I replied: "Of course I am going to make it from scratch! That's totally how I roll!"

Again, that may or may not be an exact quote of what I said.

Next grocery trip we made, I started gathering up the ingredients I was going to need. Tomato sauce, kidney beans (light red and dark red), hamburger, sausage, diced tomatoes, and so forth. Then I had to figure out what spices to put in. I had done a wee bit of research online, and had quickly determined that there are as many different recipes for chili as there are people who make chili. After consideration, the set of spices I opted for consisted of spices I already had, save for coriander.

Feeling good about my plans, we continued on our merry way, until we got to the veggie section. I wanted to toss a red bell pepper into the chili, and Sam suggested adding jalapeños and Serrano peppers to the mix. I had never worked with either (though I had eaten my fair share of jalapeños over the years), but I was confident I could figure it out.

Next day, I decided to go ahead and make the chili in the crock-pot. I figured that jalapeños and Serrano peppers were like bell peppers in how one prepped'em, so I lopped off their tops, cleaned out the seeds with my fingers, cut out the white stringy stuff, chopped'em up, and continued on with the cooking. Not long after I had everything cooking in the crock-pot, a couple of my friends kidnapped me to go up to the city with them and help them repaint their old apartment.

As the day went on, I noticed that underneath a couple of my fingernails there was a burning sensation going on, but if I was applying pressure (like when holding a paintbrush) it wasn't really noticeable, and so didn't think anything of it.

Sam and I greatly enjoyed the chili that evening, and continued to eat off of it for the next three days. We enjoyed it so much, in fact (and it was so cost effective), that we decided to make chili again a week or so ago, especially since it had gotten colder and our heater wasn't working properly (it's working better now).

I made a few minor adjustments to the spices I used, but pretty much did everything the same way again. This time, after I prepped everything and threw it into the crock-pot, I immediately noticed that my hands had a burning sensation--much more intense than what had happened the first time. I tried washing my hands, and that helped a little bit, but it was certainly aggravating. My hands had turned bright red, and it felt as if hundreds of needles were trying to get out from under my skin. After an hour or two, it finally faded away, and by the time Sam got home that night it had passed from my mind.

Today, I came across a blog post from Scott Adams of Dilbert fame, talking about his beginning adventures in cooking. I highly recommend it, as it is completely hilarious (as one would expect of Scott Adams). However, I did learn something very important:

That burning sensation? The one that Scott Adams described as

Imagine turning a broom upside down, so the pointy bristles are facing up. You take your hand, palm facing down, and bounce it on the pointy bristles. Can you imagine how uncomfortable that feels on your hand? Okay, good.

Now imagine that a giant troll sees you playing with the broom. He snatches it out of your hand, chews the handle into a point and shoves it so far up your ass that you can taste it. Then he uses you like a huge flyswatter to kill a nest of porcupines that are living in his salt mine. My hand hurt like that.

Yeah, that's from the jalapeño juices.

So, if you ever decide, my dear friends, that you want to chop up and use a jalapeño in something that you're cooking, please, in the name of all that is good and holy, wear rubber gloves! 


This message was sponsored by the Angel Cole Learn from My Fail department.

Reading the Fine Print

Sam and I have come to a very sad, very disheartening realization/decision. We're going to have to find J.J. a new home.

We both love J.J.--he's an absolutely adorable dog, very smart and very playful. Unfortunately, he is not a good fit in regards to our cats. J.J.'s first instinct is to hunt--he has what is called a "high prey instinct." As such, if you toss a toy, he doesn't just want to fetch it--he wants to rip it to shreds.

The last couple of days have been very rough, especially Monday. When we awoke Monday, this is what we saw out of our back yard:



It was a very, very rainy day. So rainy, in fact, that this has been termed a once in 500 year flood. Because of this, we had to keep J.J. inside all day. This was very rough, as J.J. is a high energy dog that needs to burn off lots of energy, and he did not want to go outside into the rain--even to do his business. This meant the entire day I spent in the back room with J.J., trying to watch for signs that J.J. needed to eliminate and to keep him from tearing up everything in the house.

We were doing okay in the morning. In the afternoon, though, he was becoming very aggressive towards me--constantly biting at my fingers and toes, even when I was trying to distract him with his chew toys. By the time Sam returned home from work, I was a nervous wreck from trying to deal with J.J. all day.

Eventually we got through it, however.

Yesterday (Tuesday), the weather was much improved, so we were able to let him be outside. This made the puppy happy, as he very much wants to be outside where he can run around and burn off energy.

Unfortunately, however, he was still being very aggressive with me--particularly after I'd had Nala in my lap for about an hour. When I brought him in that afternoon, he was aggressive/snappy at the cats as well, and had I not been there I think he would have figured a way over the doggie gate in order to chase them.

Last night Sam and I had a long conversation over what to do about J.J. We both like the dog and want him to be happy. However, we don't really want a strictly outside dog, as we're both inside people. (Sam's sunburns from that first day should have hinted at that.) But J.J. wasn't happy whenever we'd bring him inside, as he needed space to run around. More importantly, we didn't feel comfortable about having him around the cats.

Then we did a little research, to see if there was a way to keep him and train him with the cats. As we read, however, we found that the two breeds of dogs that have the hardest time with cats/other small animals, are hounds and terriers.

J.J. is a Beagle (Hound) / Jack Russel Terrier (Terrier) mix. No wonder we were having such issues with him wanting to attack things!

The two of us both still want a dog, but we need a dog that is a better fit for our home. We do not regret taking J.J. home at all--someone needed to rescue that puppy! However, we don't want to keep him long term. Therefore, we've put out ads in a couple of different places for J.J., in hopes that we can find him his permanent home. Once that's done, then we can look at finding a dog that will fit in with our lives.

Still, it makes me very sad that we will have to part ways soon with J.J., as he's a very lovable puppy.


To err is human, to forgive, canine.
--Unknown