Internet Armageddon

Sometime in 1994, my family got our first family computer that was capable of accessing the internet... by 1995 (after daily pleading) my brother and I had convinced my parents to sign up and pay for the AOL service that came with that computer so we could actually go online.  I remember setting up the account with my dad and picking a main screen name for our main account and e-mail addresses - one that I still use a variation of today - and attempting to log on for that very first time.  The modem used to dial-up connect was loud enough to wake the neighbors and once you finally got online each page would take FOREVER to load.  Our home line would be busy for hours while we were online and the monthly subscription to AOL was not cheap at the time - but my mom seemed to understand that we'd need to know how to use the internet in the coming years, so she pushed to keep it (and later threaten to take it away when we didn't do what we were told.) 

The internet looked ugly. The AOL program itself was simple enough, but actual internet pages were slow, overloaded with awkward text, limited colors and questionable information.  Chat rooms moved quickly and instant messenger became the most fun reason to go online when you're 12 years old.  You could chat with other people around the country about all sort of stupid crap and see what other stupid people were doing and talking about.  Rooms were broken down by a number of categories - age, interests, subject, sex, etc. and my brother and I knew that while the internet was AWESOME, the internet was also dangerous.  We learned quickly (and my parents reminded us regularly) of what information we should never give out.  If we were sitting there using a fake persona, lying about our age and where we lived, we had to assume almost everyone else was doing the same. We figured out what websites we could and should not click to visit without a net nanny or child-safety options.  We learned by making some mistakes and more often, through information gleaned from other user's mistakes. 

By the time my brother and I were in high school, the internet had developed exponentially and we had grown with it.  We entertained ourselves by anonymously playing pranks on other weirdo users. We had an arsenal of fake screen names and a few scanned photos of teenaged girls from photo frames which we used for our pranks. One of our favorites was on a guy who admitted to having a foot fetish in one of the chat rooms. We just HAD to send him a private message with our super cute photo and of course, he took the bait.  We chatted about some stupid nonsense for a few minutes and then he asked for a photo of her feet.  My brother has big hairy feet - and I think he had some kind of injury on his toes at the time, so his feet looked DISGUSTING (and obviously perfect for the request) so, we snapped a couple photos with our brand new webcam and sent it over.  The guy's reaction to our photos was an immediate "THAT'S DISGUSTING!  What is WRONG WITH YOU!" and "IS THAT A GROWTH!?"  Our teenage pranks left us laughing for days and every time we’d end up berating the user for being an internet perv and hitting on high school kids.  We were essentially the precursor of “To Catch A Predator” – except we thought we were funny.  Eventually we became bored with chat rooms, my brother delved into the world of MMORPGs and message boards and I leaned into the world of blogging and Geocities (helping to make the internet uglier one page at a time!)

So.  Why is it that after having a steady, cautious and loving relationship with internet for 14 years, I HAD MY FIRST MAJOR FAIL YESTERDAY?! 

I was attacked by malware.

On my work computer.

And I couldn't fix it.

It's more embarrassing than anything else.  I felt like such a newb.  I know better than to open weird files, click strange links, or get a free iPad for anything... but sometimes you just get drive-by-installed and boom, you're screwed.  The one I got was the "AV Security Virus"  which looks EXACTLY like the Windows Security Center - shield and all. (Quick PSA: don't risk clicking any links for anything called "AV Security" anything.  They have malicious links that show up as a top search result in search engines and will seriously harm your computer if you click them, so only read about it from a website you already know and trust.) So when a little pop up notification came up from my taskbar saying that "Windows has detected a threat on this page" and giving me the option to stop the threat and run a scan, I brainlessly clicked yes. Within minutes, my computer was going insane.  

Duh. I should have known better.  I was on GOOGLE.  Not some crazy website. The insanity wouldn't stop once I clicked to acknowledge the annoying sucker.  It prevented me from being able to run task manager, open web pages, and do pretty much anything - including turning off my computer using a normal shut down.

I had lost. 

There were red pages popping up, warnings for every click I made, fake security scans and now every pop up was telling me it could all be stopped if I would just buy the full price version of the AV Security Suite, which roughly translates to: let me steal your credit card number ya dummy. 

I'm lucky it wasn't one of those password stealing spyware hacks or a data destroying worm, but still.  My face was red as I apologized profusely to our IT guy while he took away my old computer and replaced it (with a faster, quieter one - silver lining!) He assured me that it happens to the best of us and that it has happened before in the office.  I was still embarrassed.  And, for the first time ever, I was kind of afraid of the internet. 
 

Just to be safe, I went through and changed all my passwords for everything - which I had just done about a week before.  I had to come up with new, super secure passwords, which incidentally, is becoming very difficult.  Coming up with new passwords that I can a) easily remember and b) have all the crap that super secure passwords have (with numbers, symbols and text) is next to impossible at this point.     It took me about 20 minutes to think of something I know I'd remember.  And by the time I got home - I HAD FORGOTTEN what I was pretty sure I could remember.  

Luckily I wrote myself a cryptic code to help myself remember in case I accidentally forgot, right? Yeah, except it took me another 20 minutes to figure out what my cryptic note meant.  I read about creating a new secure password easily by using a mnemonic device to remember them - such as: My Very Educated Mother Just Served Me Nine Pizzas would be: MVEMJSM9P. Which on the surface looks AWESOME, but it turns out, that's only a semi-secure password!  You need a symbol in there too!  HOW DO YOU REMEMBER WHERE YOU PUT THE SYMBOL?!  And then I have to think up 40 new AND different passwords for all the websites I visit regularly?  AND REMEMBER ALL THAT?  Arg.

Maybe it's time for me to move into a cave. 

A warm cave.  With cable TV, an ocean view and a Tempurpedic bed.

On the internet.

Yah.

Vegetables Are Friends... I Dont Eat Friends. Normally.

My first CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) Basket has finally arrived!

It actually comes in that basket.  Too cute.

Ever since Huell Howser went up to the Central Coast and featured a CSA program out there, I had wanted to subscribe to something similar in So. California.  Eventually a couple of friends signed up for an organic produce delivery program and sure enough, I developed produce envy. The hunt began. 

Most of what I could find wasn't exactly what I had in mind. The places that were willing to deliver to my home were expensive and often had produce coming from the Central Coast - which is local compared to the produce at the store coming from Chile or Washington - but I wanted really local... Orange County local... so I could eat fruits and vegetables that were in season right where I lived. 

Considering Orange County's farming history (most of us who grew up here remember endless orange groves,  avocado trees or lima bean fields near our homes that are now nowhere to be seen) there is only a dwindling handful of organic farms left in Orange County. Most of them do offer a CSA program but none of them dropped off anywhere near me and because I am too lazy to drive 25 minutes to the nearest pick-up locations, I slogged along buying my produce at Henry's down the street (in my defense, I have crappy work hours and I would have missed a number of the pick-up times anyway.) 

The problem with picking up my own produce at the store is that vegetables are scary.  Even with the aid of my trusty Veganomicon (I'm not vegan, but seriously a great cookbook: Veganomicon: The Ultimate Vegan Cookbook) I don't know how to prepare half the vegetables on the stands and thusly end up with the same 5 bits of produce in my cart: tomatoes, broccoli, lettuce, carrots, and onions. 

One time I got an eggplant.  It was overwhelming.

So imagine my excitement when about 2 months ago, my favorite local restaurant - The Old Vine Cafe - sent out an e-mail to it's mailing list members saying that they were going to be a location for the South Coast Farms bi-weekly CSA drop off.  The Old Vine Cafe!  We walk there!  It was a sign from the heavens!

Except, I was the only person to sign up and they wouldn't start deliveries until they had 5 people committed to the drop-off location.  So, I waited.  And about 4 weeks later I get the call.   Week 8 of the Spring CSA quarter, my first basket would be ready and waiting for me at my favorite place to eat, drink and be merry (seriously, if you haven't been to the Old Vine Cafe, go... now. Dinner is my favorite, but breakfast/brunch/lunch is amazing too.)

So here it is.

Another view of all the goodies

I got an e-mail the day of the delivery with a list of the items in the basket and a couple of recipe ideas. In this first basket are:

Valencia Oranges

Parsley

Broccoli*

Avocado

Grapefruit

Red Leaf Lettuce

Strawberries

Green Onions

Cilantro

Lemon

Sweet Pea Flowers

Chard**

Beets**

Kale**

Cabbage**

Kohlrabi***

* This is not what broccoli looks like at the store.  Are we sure this is broccoli? This looks like Top Chef broccoli.

**I have seen these items on my plate at a restaurant or in a cookbook, but have no idea how to cook them.  Send recipes and instructions please.

*** What!?!?

 

This is all the goodies in the basket unpacked.

I think these are beets? I've only seen them in crinkle cuts from a can.

The basket was packed!  I wasn't expecting so much food, but it makes sense for a bi-weekly drop off. The cilantro and the green onions smelled incredible and after dinner I got to work washing and prepping the lettuces Alton Brown style for easy use later in the week. The washing process is much more labor intensive than with grocery store produce - there's still tons of real dirt on most of the food and I wasn't sure how to prep the chard, beets, kale, cabbage or  kohlrabi, so I kind of just left them in their dirty glory in a separate spot in the fridge.

Can we discuss kohlrabi?

Kohlrabi - part of my first CSA Basket

I had to Google it to find out what the heck it was. It's a type of turnip.  I've never eaten a turnip.  My first turnip experience will be a kohlrabi - which is clearly an alien species. Can anyone suggest any incredible recipes for alien turnip? What does one do with all the tentacles? 

Anyhoo.  I'm looking forward to the eating experience and if you have any recipes that include any of the items in my basket that we should try, please send them my way!!!  And Sardean - if you read this, I think I need my Veganomicon back soon... haha I need directions!

With all this amazing produce, I'm sure you're all wondering what I made for dinner too. 

Let me start with the excuses.

I didn't get home until about 8PM.  I had to go pick up the basket after the gym (which already makes me pretty late getting home on a daily basis…remember my crappy work hours?)  and I was tired and overwhelmed after seeing all the produce.  So, I pick out the thing I know.  Strawberries.  To eat as a side dish.  For hot dogs.

HOT DOGS.

Granted, they were the organic-certified-humane-grass-fed-hormone-free-all-beef-uncured-dogs on whole grain buns... but I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a twinge of irony sitting at my dining table surrounded by gorgeous veggies, eating a hot dog.

Did I mention we had my mom's homemade cookies for dessert? Because we did.

Yeah. We'll eat healthy tomorrow. Promise.

Shake, Rattle & Roll

Ahh, what a lovely day... perfect for a quick lunch-time blog...

I'm a native Southern Californian, which means that when I was born, the doctor checked my vitals, informed me that "The Big One" would strike at any minute and that I should be prepared to duck and cover. What only made it worse, was that "any minute" in geological terms meant the next 30 to 70 years which is exactly the time frame I would need to be panicked about the impending destruction for my ENTIRE LIFE (granted, I was an easily stressed out kid... floods, tornadoes, smallpox, fires, necrotizing fasciitis, the LA riots, cannibalism, super volcanoes ... I was pretty sure I was going to fall victim to everything I ever accidentally watched on the news.)

It was a given, that at some point we would either be floating off the coast of the USA as a brand new vacation destination called Californisland, or I would suddenly become a resident in a lovely post-apocalyptic beachfront community.  When I was little, I remember more than one earthquake striking while we were watching the Flintstones.  To this day, I harbor some resentment for Fred and Barney. Obviously they caused the earth to shake.  It's the same resentment I harbor towards the other animated earthquake inducing fiend, Ricky The Raindrop, better known as Ricky, The Harbinger of Doom.

  

And oh, the aftershocks.
 

As an adult, I'm not as panicked about your run of the mill, every day earthquake anymore.  In fact, I like the little ones because they aren't The Big One.   I'll still haul ass to find the nearest doorway or crouch under a sturdy desk.  I keep a flashlight and sturdy shoes near my bed and plan out my quickest route to an emergency exit wherever I go... but I'm not panicked about the thought of The Big One hitting any minute the way I was when I was a kid.

That said, there are definitely some places I hope to NOT find myself when The Big One finally decides to let us move on with our lives. San Andreas Fault... please work with me on these.

1) The Bathroom.

In the shower or on the toilet, I do not want to be in the bathroom.  Inevitably you'll either be nekkid or you risk some questionable toilet backsplash. Lose-Lose.

2) At the Dentist 

As if I really needed another reason to enforce my phobia. And this extends to any sort of procedure involving sharp instruments.

3) At SD ComicCon

100,000 nerds, cramped into 61,000 square feet of convention space.  Wearing costumes.  In July.  And, I might lose my spot in line.

4) At An Amusement Park

Especially not on Knott's Ghost Rider.  Because I'm pretty sure it's just an elaborate toothpick constructed rollercoaster.

5) Driving on a Stack Interchange

Or up the road to Big Bear.  Or anywhere not flat.  Or anywhere where there are cars or other things.

6) The Pacific Northwest

Because their Big One is supposedly going to be way bigger than our Big One.

7) The Inland Empire

Because if I thought traffic was bad before, it will only be worse trying to get home after the 91 disintegrates.

8) SLO and SFO

Because their buildings are so old that they actually put metal plates on the sides saying "Dude, this building is definitely going to crumble and hurl bricks in an earthquake, so walk by it at your own risk because The Big One will strike at any minute."

9) Yellowstone

Ok, so I'd just rather not be at Yellowstone ever.  That whole place is going to blow and it ain't gonna be pretty...  I think I'd take The Big One over The Big KABLOOEY any day.  Our trip to Iceland later this year will be peppered with some hefty kablooeys, but even Laki's worst features are nasty ash and flooding... not having an entire state EXPLODE.

10) The Zoo

Two words.  Escaped Gorillas.

 

Now, my top 5 choices for where I would like to be when The Big One hits:

1) On an airplane with all my friends and family and our pets on our way to a two week vacation in Switzerland.

2) In outer space

3) Sleeping in an Earthquake proof bunker.

4) In the middle of an open field with no power lines, trees, rocks or bugs.

5) At home.  Because I know where the snacks are.

And lastly, I leave you all with some helpful survival information for when the next Big, Medium, or Little One hits.

What To Do During An Earthquake

The Triangle of Life

Baby. You Can Drive My Car.

So that was fun.

I decided to head down to the UCI area to grab a sandwich @ Lee's for lunch. 

On Campus Street, I notice that the opposing traffic is backed up about 3 or 4 stoplights because there is some serious construction happening in one of the lanes up ahead and they've narrowed down a normally 4 lane area (a left turn lane, a right turn lane and 2 straight ahead lanes) into one lane. So, I make a mental note to figure out some other way back to work.

As I pull into the parking lot, I realize that the light in my car reminding me that I am driving on a virtually empty tank has been on for well over 24 hours and that I have yet to get gas.  So, I head into Lee's, order a boring sandwich (my fault... I picked a boring one because the menu was so big and I was under so much pressure to decide quickly) and a really disappointing Iced Tea (their fault - some melon-hibiscus crap that was clearly NOT brewed anywhere in the vicinity of the store.. if brewed anywhere. It tasted like air freshener.  It was probably made of some kind of noxious liquid "tea" formula) and scarf it while I attempt to look up gas stations on my phone.

Gas stations in Irvine... not the easiest thing to find.  I found a travel wiki page explaining that Irvine likes to hide gas stations.  Great. 

I find a security guard who tells me that the nearest gas station is about 3 stoplights away in the direction opposite of the direction I need to go to get back to work and that it is tucked behind a big wall on the far corner of the intersection.  That's fine, I find it pretty easily, fill-er-up and begin planning my return to work to avoid that backed up Campus Street.

I don't have a GPS and I don't pay for the GPS feature on my phone... but I figure if I go over one street I can just take that down to the main road past where all the construction is happening and be on my merry way.

While this may be true of every other part of Irvine, the law of master-planning does not apply at UCI. 

I found myself on a flowery road rolling through the hills with no turns into any other major streets.  For some reason I convinced myself that if I just kept plowing on ahead, I would definitely hit another street.  I refused to turn around and backtrack to my original intersection and sit in that horrid traffic on Campus.  Because that's what a barbarian would do. Clearly.

At one point a DHL truck came out of a building and I decided to follow it... because it had to be going somewhere, right?

And it was.

20 minutes later I ended up in a relatively recognizable area of Newport Beach about 15 minutes away from my office.  The driver of the DHL truck probably thought I was stalking him. 

Yeah.

At least it was a nice drive. 

And no traffic.

Wienerlicious

Mike has a very specific laugh when he watches ridiculous animal videos or looks at silly animal pictures.  I never hear the same laugh when we're talking or watching TV. It's kind of this low bubbling chuckle and it's one of my favorite sounds so I do my best to get every hilarious animal video and image to him STAT.  I even sit through episodes of America's Funniest Home Videos for clips of animal highlights whenever possible.

When we see a dachshund on the street, that laugh spills out almost naturally.  It's like he can't see a wiener dog and not laugh.  It doesn't have to be doing anything cute or funny. It just has to be... a wiener dog. 

When we have room for a second dog, it will probably be from a wiener dog rescue.  Apple happens to love dachshunds, so it should work out well (she'll find the one dachshund at the bark park or dog beach and it will be the only dog she's not intimidated by - our theory is that they're the only dogs that are shorter than she is.) 

It's awesome.

So... I bet I'll be able to hear Mike's chuckle when he reads this blog. 

Because of this:

I mean, I totally get it.  They're naturally hilarious.
(I own none of these photos... they were all just pulled up off Google Image search and, I  believe, chuckle inducing.)

Wiggle Jiggle, Yellow Middle

I love eggs.

The thought of someone telling me to "go suck an egg" would not be thought of as an insult but rather some kind of delicious reward.

"Why thank you, I will gladly go suck an egg. I'll take mine poached please. With a crusty baguette.  Thanks."

There are few things in the culinary world that make me happier than a perfectly cooked egg.
 - Discovering a delectable boiled ovoid with a slightly soft core in a steamy salty bowl of ramen? Bliss.
 - Pale, fluffy scrambled eggy goodness tossed with fresh cubes of feta and cool seasonal tomatoes served over freshly baked sourdough?  Drool.
 - Popping the yolk of that delicately fried egg so that it just barely oozes onto freshly steamed rice? Home.

My mom was making these for my birthday dinner.

Eaten with thinly sliced Colombian style beef, rice, avocado and tomato. 

So good.  Add a fried plátano and an arepa and you're golden. Trust.

Hard boiled, fried, scrambled, poached, baked... yum. Chicken, quail, ostrich... yum. I don't even have to dip into the plethora of baked goodies that would not exist without the glory of the egg.

Many nutritionists assert that the egg is nature's perfect food. I found thousands of cookbooks dedicated to the egg on Amazon... including this one, this one and this one.  I'm contemplating getting one of them since it seems I have no problem eating eggs for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

I eat eggs practically every day - which isn't as cheap as it used to be.  Ever since I converted to the world of  certified humanely handled, local, free range, organic, and antibiotic free eggs (as well as poultry, beef and bacon) eating animal products has become much more expensive and much more of a treat in the last 4 years or so.  A fair trade off for some of the most incredible tasting eggs I've ever prepared (also some of the hardest eggs to peel.  What is with that?  Peeling a fresh boiled egg is near impossible.)

I had three must-do's in our most recent trip to London.  1) Tower of London  2)Beatles shenanigans and 3) Scotch Eggs.  We found this incredible gastropub that focused on local organic foods and made the most amazing scotch eggs.(A neat thing about London was that free range hens and eggs were pretty much the standard wherever we looked - even McDonald's touted free range eggs and organic milk.) My photo does not even do it justice.

Throw away all your previous notions of  "scotch eggs" because these were fresh, fluffy and so incredible.

Mike isn't as much of an egg addict as I am.  He enjoys the occasional scrambled egg or the omelet stuffed with goodies or even a couple slices of a spinach quiche... but he wouldn't touch a hard boiled egg with a 10 foot pole.  A poached egg or a sunny side up egg would likely make him gag but maybe I need to get more creative. If you have any incredible egg recipes, please do tell!

And now I leave you with this from the Korean website www.iloveegg.com

In English (couldn't embed - but seriously - check it out)
http://www.iloveegg.co.kr/egg-song%28English%292.swf

My favorite part:

"Oodle doodle!
Popular and perfect and so complete in every way!
I love you eggs!
Come into my tummy, oh so very yummy."

Brilliant.

In Korean it's even cuter somehow http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fLoT0rqkMYI

And if you look up "I Love Eggs" on you tube - they have an animated series!  Seriously.  Win.

I love you egg.  Thank you for being eggy.

The Life and Times of a Lazy Beast

This is Apple.

This is how she sleeps.

A 9lb beast snuggled under our blankets and nestled between our pillows. She’ll rustle around for a while and jam her tiny little paws into our backs until she can find the perfect spot. Normally she opts to stay under the blanket altogether, but more recently she’s decided that she prefers to sleep with her head on a pillow.

She is brilliantly lazy.

Most days she sleeps in past us and grumbles and groans when we turn the lights on before 10AM.  Literally. If her head is outside when we turn the lights on, this is what she does.

She does make up for it by helping with the laundry though.

Totally helpful.

And if you don't like it... too bad.

It's pretty much a match made in heaven.

(I was inspired to write a dog-post by The Mutts of Playa Los Hooligans. I could seriously look at people's dog pictures all day.)

Linty Lent

In observation of Lent a number of my friends have opted to abstain from certain pleasures and/or vices for the next 40 days (excluding Sundays - those observing Sundays are doing so for 46 days.) Some in preparation for the Easter season and others for the simple purpose of practicing self control. In the past I've "given up" soda, juice, fast food, junk food, meat and swearing among other things, but I struggle with the reality that, for me, the Lenten sacrifices of my past have done little to...well...bear fruit. These 40 days (for a Catholic) are supposed to remind us of the 40 days Jesus spent in the desert fasting and resisting temptation (which brings to mind one of my favorite Adult Swim shows ever.. which isn't anywhere in the ballpark of Biblically accurate... some might even say it's blasphemous...but... still... hilarious http://video.adultswim.com/lucy-the-daughter-of-the-devil/temptasia.html) and as a result remind us of our blessings and of our strength in God.

If I'm being entirely honest with myself, more often than not, my Lenten sacrifices have reminded me that I've gained 30 pounds since I was 18 and need to go to the gym, more so than of Jesus chillin in the desert* getting good with his destiny. And by the end of the 40 days anyway, I typically gorge myself on everything I deprived myself of in one delicious sitting known as Easter brunch (and of course for the following weeks as part of uh, the Easter Season?) Any daily "meditation" on my sacrifice revolved less around the spiritual ties to the sacrifice and more on the ways I could work around my sacrifice (ie. "I gave up chocolate candy... I didn't say I gave up chocolate cake...come to my belly cake!") or how they would benefit other superficial aspects of my life (ie. "I'm giving up fast food for Lent." Thinking, "hopefully that'll help me drop a size.") I felt like I was missing the point of Lenten observation. I know I should give up those silly little vices year round simply because that's what's good for me and not because it will make me a more complete person.

So this year, in keeping with the standard Catholic practice, I'm fasting and abstaining from meat on Fridays, but in an attempt to refocus my energies during the season of Lent, I'm tiptoeing out of my comfort zone (a zone that I'm still grappling with as I write this blog) and have organized a weekly Lenten-movie night. The goal is to get together with friends each Friday to enjoy a meat-free meal and watch a critically acclaimed feature film or documentary that speaks to our spiritual side and discuss.  Some of the films would have explicitly Catholic themes and others would use allegory to relate to Catholic beliefs and general social justice teachings.  

Yeah. Discuss religion?  With friends?  Who are not necessarily Catholic?  Who are not necessarily even theists?  This is my definition of awkward - don't know why - but it is.  The occasional blog is one thing, but discussion in person and unsolicited outside of Church functions goes against almost everything it means to be a cradle-Catholic.  I mean we might accidentally start talking about serious ISSUES here.  We might disagree! This could be a Pandora's box and the friend I've known for 14 years might suddenly decide I'm a total idiot. OH THE ANXIETY!

Luckily I have good friends... who humor me. And I know that when we do disagree, it will only make the discussion and the development that much richer... because they are nice and smart.

BTW....The invitation is open to anyone who is interested - message me or e-mail me and I'll give you the weekly details and weblink to the movie list so you can see what we're watching. It's a no-commitment invitation as I'd be doing this by myself if no one else ever showed up.

In any case, last Friday was the first of our screenings as we watched the documentary film, "Mother Teresa" I wasn't sure what to expect, as I had never seen it, but Siskel and Ebert gave it 2 thumbs up, so I was hoping it would be good.

It was.

I didn't know much about the incredible work of Mother Teresa, but the film has had me reflecting ever since on the things she said, the way she worked and the life she's led. Without a political swing, with no ulterior motives and with only the aid of "Divine Providence," she moved across the globe doing whatever she could do as a person to bring joy and love to those most forgotten among us, one person at a time. Her ideas so simple and honest. So seemingly easy for us to apply in our lives that it's almost embarrassing that I hadn't focused on it before. For example - one of the more personally thought provoking things she spoke of in the film:

"There is a terrible hunger for love. We all experience that in our lives - the pain, the loneliness. We must have the courage to recognize it. The poor you may have right in your own family. Find them. Love them."

It was exactly the type of film I had hoped it would be - and it sparked a chain of thoughts and reflection that I hadn't experienced in previous Lenten endeavors.  After the film, we initially all just talked about how amazing her life was and how simple and direct the way she worked was - no fundraisers, no advertising, no discrimination - just person to person love and acceptance.  The thought process continued even after we left that night and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. I'm not sure if it did the same for everyone else that watched, but I hope it did.  Mike and I have been talking about it and coming back to it as a point of discussion a number of times over the past few days... much more thought happening than when I gave up soda.

If you've got any good movies that sparked that spiritual side of you - let me know.  I'm looking for more!  I'm trying to stay away from movies that are cheeseball watered down stuff that we may have had to watch in High School religion classes and really want to watch well made films so I have mostly put together the viewing list by cross checking high customer ratings on Amazon with Roger Ebert's reviews and picking only his 3 star or higher reviewed films when available. So far, so good.

I Wanna Be A Great Plumber Like My Brother, Mario

Last week, Mike and I started playing Super Mario Bros Wii together.

There was a time when I was pretty good at your standard video game.  I was pretty decent on the Nintendo (still kill at Tetris) could definitely hold my own on the N64 and totally pwnd Gauntlet Dark Legacy for the PS2, but it's been a while since I've played a Mario game as an adult.  I may suck at SMB Wii - but it sure is funny.

Mike and I have completely different playing styles.  I'm of the smash-every-block-and-leave-no-coin-behind faction and he's of the beat-the-bad-guys-as-quickly-as-possible faction.  And because he's player 1, we move at his pace when we play together.  Meaning, I regularly get smooshed by the left side of the screen as I'm attempting to collect coins... prompting him to console me after my Luigi character dies for the 3rd time in 2 minutes with an aptly versed,  "I think this should teach you some relevant lessons about greed."

Seriously.  He literally said that.  He kills me.

So, on our first day of playing we had just warped to the 3rd level when I took stock of the fact that my Luigi character had died at least 55 times already - it may have been more considering I had found a few 1UP mushrooms and promptly used them falling off a ledge or walking into a Goomba when I meant to stomp him.    That's 3.4375 times per level, 27.5 per world.  Mike was still playing off his original 5 lives and had accumulated a few 1UP lives - at this point, it was almost assumed that Luigi would die every few minutes and it was Mike's responsibility to keep the game going. 

During particularly hard levels, I'd keep Luigi in his floating resurrection bubble until we were past the danger zone and then I'd shake him over to Mario to be popped.  The levels would get harder and harder - and I was dying faster than the game would allow for regeneration. My shoddy skills were no longer keeping me afloat. 

Now, Mike is no pro either. While he was definitely better than I, on more than one occasion his fat little Mario delicately pushed my unsuspecting Luigi off a warp pipe and into the bottomless ravine or bounced on my Luigi's head to reach an item and as a result trapped me in the direct line of a Bullet Bill.  It's ok - I was more than willing to sacrifice my Luigi's lives for the greater good of the team.  His Mario needed to stay alive to keep the game going.

In any case, Mike was out of town the last couple of days, so I decided to practice my skillz so that when he got back, I wouldn't be the let down drag out Luigi any more.

To my surprise - I kind of kick ass. 

But not in the way most gamers would kick ass. I started my own game and  I collected every coin, replayed each level until I collected all the necessary star coins, saved the stupid Toad every time he screamed for help (and often died in the process) and found every hidden 1UP mushroom I could find.  I did die a lot in the process, but I hadn't even reached the World-1 fortress and I already had 28 lives.  28!!!!!   Slow and steady wins the race.

Mike came back and we picked up where we left off, but he sensed that my mind wasn't in our game.  It was, but I had little attachment since my Luigi character had already died and come back to life at this point about 75 times.  Plus, we had left so many Star coins behind in the worlds we passed.  I mean, is that even a complete level?  Not in my book. 

Despite my lack of attachment to our game, I was still eager to show off my newly honed skills so I really was trying to play better... but 2P is HARD.  It's way harder than 1P. Suddenly I was having to watch not only my dude, but Mike's dude too... and he was moving erratically trying to collect stuff, so I'd run into him and bounce into a bad guy and die.  Or if I wanted to super run through an area with dropping stuff, he preferred to sit and methodically time out his jumps, so I'd get stuck near the edge of the screen and die.  2P is a whole other ballgame.

So, after this experience, I don't think anyone can rightfully call themselves a SMB Wii master until they've defeated all the levels with 4P.  Because with Mario, Luigi and two stupid Toads, I can only imagine it's gotta be a cluster-thwomp.

Old Fogie

Sometimes I'm happy that no one has the superpowers to read my mind yet because my mind tends to ramble off on it's own about ridiculous things.

Like today.

When I decided that I wanted a pet crow.

Because they're very smart birds, of course.

But not until I was like 75.

That way the neighborhood kids would think I was a witch.

Because I'd have dyed my hair blue. Or green. Or hot pink.

And I'd have a pack of attack dachshunds.

And because Mike (being a retired engineer of course) would have set up a number of contraptions around our home that the kids would mistake for boobie traps.

And of course, some of them would be boobie traps.

For those meddling kids.

And maybe we'd catch a pudgy one as he was trying to fulfill his childhood obligations of a double-dog-dare to ring the doorbell and run.

And we'd call his parents. And bring him inside to wait for them.

But in the meantime, his friends watching would think we were turning him to stone with one of our contraptions.

But we'd win him over with all the amazing tricks our pet crow and pack of attack dachshunds can do and he wouldn't want to leave.

But to maintain our fearsome status, we'll make him swear an oath of secrecy.

So when he gets out and sees his friends, he won't say anything, but he'll know we're cool and his friend will think we wiped his memory.

Or that he's a pod person.

Because when I'm 75, I'll be living in a 1980's adventure movie.

See.

Could you imagine the embarrassment of someone being able to listen to that entire thought process on the elevator down to the first floor? You'd think I was insane.