So over the holidays I got a new camera, and while it may not be the fanciest digital camera, or take really big, high rez pictures, it does have a few nice features. In this test shot, I'm holding the camera. Yeah, it's that small, and it really does come in a stainless steel case that looks like a zippo. The images attached to this post were taken with the new camera at and outside of McTighe's, a joint you may have heard me talk about before.

So from now on, I might have a few pictures to go with each of the bar reviews. (If I remember to take them)

[img:498939]

If I had the time (or the talent) I'd do something like websnark. As it is, I must admit defeat and bow to a superior wordsmith. (or at least one who can write in volume.) I don't even have time to read as much as he does (even if they are just comics) let alone come up with both running commentary and insightful analysis.

So that's at least two blogs who are doing it better than me. (bookslut was the other one, mentioned in that 'brainstorming' post, 13 December.) As it is, I'm just a talentless hack who writes about things of limited appeal, even in the small geographic area where I operate.

It's enough to make me give up. Or not. You know, because I like to hear myself talk. That, and to pull a reference almost as geeky as old gaming jokes-- even though Inigo was defeated by Roberts/Wesley, he was still a pretty good fencer in his own right. There is no shame is being merely great in the face of genius.

I may hit my stride, eventually. My topic may reach out to me, or meet me halfway, or develop organically from other projects. Or this will just continue as a scattered collection of random thoughts, beer, whining, pseudo-intellectual crap, beer, and drunken rambling (see points 2 & 5)--along with the occasional recipe-- until such time as I see fit to stop updating. I'll warn you, I can be very stubborn/stupid no matter what the odds ("Never tell me the odds") even in the face of what appears to be a hopeless situation. ("I refer your honor to Exhibit B, the defendants dating history, and Exhibit C, his current social life.")

This is post #200, incidentally. I've only been doing this for a year. There is plenty of time left for me to figure out what this thing is for.

As noted in this space some 18 hours ago, apparently I've been doing this for a year. Tabulas, enchiridion, (parenthetical aside): it started more or less a year ago. In hindsight, I can't really say what prompted me to start blogging, though some random thoughts I've posted here since then do shed a little light, if you bothered to read the whole thing through at some point.

I do know that tabulas wasn't started as a New Years Rez thing. I'd been researching various blog options for a month or two before setting anything up. Finally I went with tabulas because
1) it was free,
2) it was easy to set up, and
3) the url didn't have the word 'blog' anywhere in it.
(I know the term has come into common usage; I use it myself, occasionally, but that doesn't mean I like the sound of it, or the image it used to conjure. Blogs and Bloggers have come a long way in the past year)

To mark the occasion, I decided to have a beer. [chusk. glug glug. ah.] I also thought it might be entertaining (to me, your opinion may differ) to do a breakdown by month and review the state of the site.

(2004 web journal statistics: my year in review)

like a driftnet that pulls in everything, including the trash (including, you know, that one sneaker that always shows up in any collection of trash. you ever notice that? just one shoe. I wonder if they're always left shoes, or something equally weird) my own browsing habits tend to gather a bit of everything off the internets.
--

Cory Doctorow, scifi author and information rights activist has been commenting on the proliferation of hidden DRM annoyances that are being complicitly built into your consumer electonics. Here's the argument he made a few days ago, though there are more recent points on boingboing.net.

Silicone voted best invention of the past 50 years. (Chips, not cones.) (CNN, via Fark)

New way for the blind to 'see', which is a practical application of some really cool new materials science. (Science News Daily, via SE, which to be fair I should note often has not-safe-for-work banner ads. Oh, and their main site usually has links which are also NSFW. In fact, even the name of the site might be considered NSFW.) (but they do have cool links.)

In health news: My life style does provide some health benefits but apparently I'm going to die anyway.

...and some web comic goodness:
- "You could try B&N..." from the Penny Arcade archives.
- "Three, maybe twenty" from the Sinfest archives
- mmm... slugbait. "spider brew" from the Goats archives

There are other link sites; you know 'em, I know 'em. That's not the point here. I'm just pointing out a few favorite articles, and I'll only be doing this once a week. Unless I forget. Or get tired of it. Or, you know, forget.

The Chattahoochee River National Recreation Area, or at least a small chunk of it, is about a third of a mile from my front door. This nearby section (the Cochran Shoals unit [pdf map]) features lovely river views, some wooded hiking (light hiking) opportunities, and multiple bike/running trails, including a 3 mile stretch with markers every quarter mile (or kilometer, if you feel like going metric.) (the metric trail is just a skosh longer, out to 5K).

Why mention it? Well… if I get up off of my lazy ass I can do close to 4 miles (walking, jogging, whatever) in the relatively-unpolluted outdoors on unpaved trails. And I could do this every other day. Or even every day. (maybe not every day.) And with the marked trail, I can get a better idea of how I'm doing (possibly improving) beyond the run-until-you-feel-tired sort of biometric. ...not that I make stoopid New Year’s resolutions, which as we all know only last until Valentines Day. But I did lose 25 pounds last year, making some simple changes. Maybe it’s time for another simple change.

Oh, and it’s not all theoretical—I did have to get up off of my lazy ass to find the trail from the back of my apartment complex down to the river, I've walked three sets of trails, and I ran (ok, so I ran and walked. mostly walked) the three mile loop this morning. (you know, the weather is so nice today).

I ran Saturday with the Hash (cited previously; I’m lazy, go find the link yourself), walked five miles (give or take) on Sunday, and did the 3+ miles today. Yes, I’m bragging.

I’m working the store tonight and early tomorrow morning (changing displays before opening tomorrow) so it looks like my next opportunity to do something healthy will be Thursday morning, before work. Which should also leave me in decent shape to run with the Hash again Saturday afternoon.

small changes. I suppose I could stand to lose another 25 pounds.

last night I delay-posted an entry that popped up on here around 6am or so, something along the lines of "blah, blah, out running--ain't I healthy?--blah blah blah"

Since I wrote it the night before, let's just say today's initial post represented a state of mind at that time, an intention rather than the truth. In actualy fact, when the clock went off at 6am, I said something vulgar and reset the alarm for 10am.

Well, the groundskeepers outside my window at 8am employing not one but three leafblowers put an end to that. So yeah, I got up. Yeah, I ran a couple miles. (Or a ran a half mile and walked the rest.) No big deal. This, apparently, is going to be part of my morning routine three days a week (or so) And other then mention exercise in passing, I doubt I'll bother with a 3rd post on a topic so boring to the rest of you.

Web trawl #2, for the week of 2 January 2005.
(presented in no particular order)


"Many Americans are already convinced of the crisis. There is polling data that suggests that among young people, more believe in UFOs than believe that they will ever collect benefits from Social Security."
-- originally brought to my attention by the Miami Sun-Sentinel. the link is archived-out over on their site, but Google cached it for us. (top search result)

I really don't have time for this, but the next time you leave the strip club with a bunch of singles in your wallet, why not do something with them: $20 Wallet. (via BoingBoing)

Another t-shirt I should probably buy: the Blog! "produced by AVERAGE PEOPLE who SEEM to think THEIR LIVES are INTERESTING." On a similar note, there is Penny Arcade weighing in with this take on bloggers, or perhaps forum-posters, or perhaps anyone who can find an audience out there.

Diets, food, psychology, and behavior. link. The study also seems to support the assertion that you have a pre-set weight, and your treacherous body will attempt to go back to its preferred weight after you stop dieting.

From the New Yorker's movie critic: "What does it take to shake a movie fan? Whether we are critics or bug-eyed buffs, so many of our evenings are spent in the company of crimes and misdemeanors that we can hardly be blamed for developing the hide of a pachyderm. Just occasionally, something slips through—a thin shudder of monstrosity, enough to remind us of what it means to be afraid. And so it came about, this week, that I gazed at a black screen and saw words so calamitous that they might have been written in my own blood: Screenplay by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Joel Schumacher."

Websnark snarking about politics, religion, and why you should check your targets before throwing stones.

Well, despite what this turkey says, I'm still of the opinion that nice guys will always finish last. However, as the years grind on, I'm not sure if this is my problem; I may not be a nice guy.

Ramen is big business. (found via fark.)

A few links to inspire small chuckles:
chuckle
chuckle
Photoshopped? Original publicity photo? Can't say. Funny? Yes, I'd have to say so. Go Chewie! (via kungfool/crazykimchee. link.)

A moment of zen, from a 'discount software' spam that came through my email: "Fortunately this compartment did not hold the boilers, or the fires would have been immediately extinguished." Are random sentences like this supposed to help it pass through spam filters? (I guess so, after all, I read it...)

(this may be subject to change later. it seems to make sense tonight, though.) (and I'm not even drunk) (yet)

I've got a problem with an ex-girlfriend. Now, I would call her the ex-girlfriend, but she's not the most recent, so the definite article doesn't apply. It's been a few years.

further qualifiers: now, I don't know if I'd call her my 'one regret'. actually, I think she'd be my third regret. --possibly fourth regret, maybe fifth; that depends on if I want to go all the way back to high school.

(I'm catching a 'high fidelity' vibe off of this, better get back on point...)

so, anyway, there's this xgf that I still run into, socially, and it's always a bit of a downer for me, not so much because of the history there, or the breakup (at the time, mostly amicable), or her feelings (she seems cool with it) but because I am an idiot and it has become apparent to me (not recently, more like, for a couple of years) that I am really hung up on this chick and because of past events and my own stupidity there is nothing I can do to redeem a lost situation or make up for past behavior. Or, you know, change who I am or who she is or how that whole dynamic works.

I'm stuck. I'm lost. I've lost and there is no chance for a rematch.

Yes, it sucks.

So I've decided to hate her. I can't really hate her, because there will always be this unstated undercurrent, but those are the sort of emotional fires that a healthy addiction to alcohol can help quench.

No, I think it will all work out better in the end if I just hate her. And the more often I tell myself that, a little bit each day, maybe I can make it true.

There is nothing sadder than true love denied.

(ah, but was it true love?)
shut up and have a beer, numbnuts
(but I could have sworn I loved her.)
look, if she really was that one-in-a-million... well then, there are 1300 chicks just like her in China
(but how do I know? did I throw away my one chance for a happy ending?)
if you keep obsessing about one chick you dated for a few months last century, then I would have to say, yes, farker. Grow up. Move on.
(but if this is really the end--last chapter, close the book--wouldn't it be fair to let her know, to give her the chance...)
...to kick you in the balls? What are you looking for, cheese-for-brains? validation? It was over even before you decided you were in love.
(...)
It was a fantasy. A pipe dream. You fell in love with a woman you had never met. An ideal you constructed around a memory. Oh, it was a nice couple of months, no doubt, but you've built up a relationship that never existed in the time since.
(I hate it when you're right.)
You mean you hate it when you're right, smarty pants. You're talking to yourself here.
(so is it ok to hate her?)
damn right. now we're talking. pass the beer
(but if I'm talking to myself...)
you've got two hands. now let's get back to drinkin'

damn right.

love, hate. they're both strong emotions.

I wouldn't say they're direct opposites though. As often as people talk about love vs. hate, I find that both can co-exist and both can be fixed on the same target.

I love beer. I hate being drunk.
(I find I don't mind the hangover, or the buzz. But just past the buzz, past that extra special euphoria of having had just enough beer, there is that sense of having lost control. I hate that.)

(There is more that just the alcohol at work; every now and then, particularly when drinking at home, on an empty stomach, I'll notice that I get a decided lift not just from the alcohol, but a bit of a sugar rush from the carbs. While relatively simple polysaccharides are indigestible to yeast, they can hit your bloodstream like a pixie stick.)

(point?) ...so, yes, I'd have to say there is such a thing as a love-hate relationship. And you can feel both at the same time toward the same person. or, um, object--to keep this as a purely hypothetical sort of discussion.

The opposite of love is apathy.
The opposite of hate is desire.

The direct result of too little sleep is philosophical musings. I really, really need to get to bed now.

so, my budget is shot, once again. just a few hours past payday [*pfhoosh*] no more money.

oh, but I enjoyed it.

I am now the proud owner of a new pipe, which was $50 more than I should really be spending (I might as well be burning it)(I would say, "literally" but that is such an old joke now) ...but if I'm not dating anyone at the moment, I might as well enjoy a little pipe tobacco every now and then. In case you were wondering, no. No, that's not a good trade.

I didn't need a new pipe. Purchases like that are seldom a matter of need.

There was a fair chunk that went to pay off assorted bills. There was dinner at a nice restaurant, and a full tank of gas, and yesterday's bar tab. Then there was some money that I really did just burn, spending it on the state lottery. (They have this game called 'quick cash' running at quite a few of the bars. Bastards.)

So after squirrelling aside just a bit for groceries later, I've got [calculating...] seven bucks. I think I can find a home for most of that tomorrow afternoon, if I go hashing. (it's not free, just cheap.)

like I said, [*pfhoosh*]

I have a habit of running through available assets-- money, beer in the fridge, friends' goodwill, the tolerance and patience of those few charitable females who will actually put up with me...

but that's a different complaint.

there was this date that I almost had tonight.

(that sentence by itself likely conveys both the potential and the disappointment I feel at the moment. I'm tempted to leave it standing by itself as the entirety of this entry.)

It was a last minute sort of thing; the idea came up late last night while talking over IM. (does this count as a conversation, like a phone call, or is it something more/less? moot point, I guess)

I abandoned my original plans for the afternoon (ref: hashing, below) but even tapping the emergency fund, I didn't feel all that great (financially) about going out tonight. So I was conflicted--until I got a sort-of-happy resolution to this dilemma: I was going to call her to reschedule (because I'm mostly broke, though I was going to figure out some other way to phrase that) but as it turns out she called first to cancel on me. Nothing malicious, just that "tonight was bad" and "we'll do it some other night"

this works out on one level but leaves me feeling empty and a bit rejected all the same. Given my state of mind this past week (see the entry from 10 January) or the past six months, really (see the entry from 5 July), this latest development doesn't do much for my already-fragile confidence. I do hope there will be a chance to reschedule.

As a sort-of-consolation, I guess I get to enjoy my new pipe this evening. In case you were wondering, no. No, this is not a good trade. But you make do with what you have. A nicotine haze may be the best I can conjure this evening.

(it's still technically Sunday morning. for a couple of minutes anyway)

Sunday Morning Web Trawl:
Web scrapings from the week of 9 January.

So this week we'll at least start with a bunch of links I picked up via BoingBoing and then see where that takes us. (So, you know, you could just go there and see. Except this was from much earlier in the week so it's likely cycled off their main page, so you'd just miss it.)

Batting in the lead-off position: The Hipster PDA, which is some fun stuff to do with 3x5s and a binder clip. Instead of hauling around electronics, all you need are a variety of index cards, which can be blank, coloured, ruled, or grided, and bought in the hundreds for just a few bucks, along with a nice pen, and you're in business. BB also linked to a few handy tips for those of you who may be having a bit of trouble with the basics. You know, the old pen-and-paper paradigm. Now, I don't know why you have to do it yourself; I carry a notebook. Actually, I carry a Moleskine, and I swear by the damn thing. It's my other memory. (you know--unlike the wetware in my head--this one works.) I do rely on some minimal organizational aids, but mostly I wing it. There are a few sites that turn up when you google "moleskine", but I think only addicts or obsessives would bother. And while these are available online, or in art supply stores, they're also available from B&N, so I get my employee discount. (Here's my preferred model. Quadrille is a preference developed in the old engineering and physics classes.)

Another link gleaned from BB this week was an entry over at Wikipedia on Fictitious Chemisty. I was surprised by the number of comic book references (including Adamantium, claws or otherwise), and was also surprised by the number of these I recognized from my readings (comic books and otherwise).

Of course, seeing some of my old favorites referenced led me on a short scifi binge, and among other search-engine-derived nuggets, we have SciFi Web Comics:

Here's Saturnalia, a comic firmly in the Manga vein.

Or try Freefall, which combines some plausible scifi shennanigans with a few chuckles.

The real gem, though--the diamond in the rough--is a truly funny bit of inspired insanity called Schlock Mercenary. The author/artist is Howard Tayler, and he mixes up a heady combo of science, speculation, and top-shelf writing (including the genius sound effects) with artwork that, well, definitely gets better over time. The results are often pure genius
[step away from the tub of happiness]

You can easily take a week to read the whole thing from the beginning. I know because, um, I did. (I should paypal Tayler 5 bucks or something.)

I've posted a lot of crap this week. (deep emotions, philosophical musings, personal details, finances, & way too much about my current relationships, or the lack thereof. Like I said: Crap.) Feel free to ignore it, or to take from it what you need, or to use it to help provoke thought-type-things within the confines of your own skull.

In the end, I don't care. You didn't have to read it. The only person I wanted to see any of this stuff was the xgf, and I doubt she bothered to read either post directed at her. (I'm still trying to figure out a good way to hate her. It just won't stick. Gotta keep trying though.)

Now that I've worked some of that out of my system, I guess I can stop obsessing (just a little) and move on to other projects that I have ignored. Even with the insomnia, which you'd think would give me loads of free time, I haven't written anything for the novel in a week. I only ran 6 miles, and I skipped Saturday afternoon, which is usually the longest run of the week. I've wasted years, though, so if it takes a few extra days and sleepless nights for me to try and get my head back on straight, I should go ahead and burn the time.

Of course, I still need to wrap up one more loose end from this past week; I haven't heard back yet from last night's almost-date; did I misread that situation?

so, I've spent the past few days doing the usual boring stuff: working, laundry, cleaning kitchen and bathroom, checking email and news sites. I've also slept about 30 hours over the past three days, catching up on some missed sleep.

I find I really enjoy sleep. It definitely leaves me in a better mood.

What I haven't done is write. Not here, not the novel, not even a grocery list. I can tell I'm procrastinating. However, I might have found a new angle-- while I was walking the 20 yards from my car to the store this morning for work, I finally had a breakthrough on my villain. Every good guy needs an enemy, but it gets a bit clichéd when you're dealing with just "(pure) good vs. (dire) evil". It shouldn't be that black & white.

I found a new angle. I think it will work. It inspires me. So if you'll excuse me... I've got some things to write down before the whole construct evaporates from my mind.

(btw: the schedule page is up-to-date, through next week. if anyone wanted that info...)

as I might have mentioned previously, there's free wifi at a local pub. Of course, they charge $5.25 a pint so there's not a whole lot that's free about it, but I'd be spending the money on the Guinness anyway, so there we are. (At least they're 20 oz. pints. God bless and preserve the imperial system of measurement. Still that's like [calculating...] $33 dollars a gallon or so. Not that I'm in the habit of drinking a gallon of beer at a time.) (once a month or so is not habitual.) Actually, I've been in and out of Fado quite a bit over the past few months; this is just the first time I remembered to bring the laptop.

So this would be a live post from out in the field. If I can squeeze out enough jingle for a couple of laptop batteries, I could definitely see spending upwards of six or eight hours in a nice little pub like this, now that the sticking point of being disconnected from the internet has been satisfactorily addressed. This could make crack look like pez; you want to talk about feeding multiple addictions simultaneously.

Heh, two beers in me and I can still spell 'simultaneously'. Only one cure for that...

At least in the afternoons, there is a nice little booth open not 10 feet from the bar, and only 15 from the tap. That's where I have my ass parked at the moment, watching the band set up on the stage (they do live music Friday nights) and just past that, a lovely view down the back of the pub out onto the patio. There is a pleasant breeze passing through the pub today, it's pro'ly 60 degrees out or something close today, really, a quite nice afternoon. I don't know if I brought it up in this forum before, but give me a beautiful sunny afternoon and that only makes squandering it in some dark smoky bar that much sweeter.

Of course, it is entirely possible that I am more than just a little bit warped.

The little battery icon is telling me I only have an hour or so left before I have to give up the laptop for other pursuits (beer, pipe, hitting on the bartender who has a lovely Irish accent btw but I'm sure that info does you no good but its sort of nice from where I'm sitting just like the silhouette of said bartender...) (breathe, Matt.) (what was my topic?) ...so I guess I should wrap this up and spend the next hour pounding out a word or 1500 for the novel.

Things I really shouldn't do while drunk:

- Drive. (obvious, isn't it?)

to that I now would like to add two things that, while not deadly perilous, do present other hazards when performed while inebriated:

- send out email.
- shop on-line.

Now, I suppose I could still write emails, as long as I wait until there is a chance for some sober review before sending anything. And I suppose there is the option of just "window shopping" while on-line, as long as I never reach for the magic plastic. Of course, I do get the occasional nifty gizmo out of the deal, like that digital camera I picked up a month ago, but it's still money I likely shouldn't be spending.

The consequences of drunken emails... well, it's sort of like drunk dialing, except you don't wake folks up at 3am. (still might piss 'em off, tho.) And that's all I have to say on that at the moment.

[There was some stuff here, but now it ain't. You're not missing anything, friend, just a few scenes out of the little soap opera that runs in my head]

[no, really. nothing to see here... these aren't the robots you're looking for... move along]

[anyway, the post that used to be here was sort of time- and situation- and person-specific. None of that applies anymore, so I took the post down.]

Oh, I guess there was one detail that was more general-interest than personal: No links to be had this Sunday; sorry folks. I'll post something late (like on Tuesday) or I'll just catch up with it next week.

I don't really have time to write too much this evening (well, I do have the time, actually, but I was going to devote the largest chunk of that to novel writing) but I thought I might give some folks a bit of insight into the mess that was the inside of my skull this past week.

So maybe I'm not getting enough vitamins. So maybe I drink too much coffee, and the occasional nic-fix I get from my pipe tobacco doesn't do me much good either. And I know my sleep schedule has been sporadic at best, and insomnaic on occasion in actual fact. The beer I'll leave out of this; beer is good for me.

(yes, insomnaic is a word. I just made it up. it's an adjective meaning of, or related to insomnia, and it's etymology is in-, a latin prefix meaning 'not', plus somnus, a latin word rood meaning 'sleep', plus -naic, a neologism I think I mentioned I just made up meaning, 'what do you mean this noun has no easily derived adjective form? ...farking Webster; him and that Oxford guy can both take their definitions and fold them until they're all sharp corners and then shove 'em...')
(at this point the etymology breaks down a bit. And for the record I use the American Heritage dictionary from Houghton Mifflin. It's a good product.)
(missing adjectives I'll attribute to a fault of the language, not the reference.)

ANYWAY, I think my point was that I may not be in the best frame of mind when it comes to making sound decisions on emotionally charged issues. And I'll leave it at that.

And that is about as much as I feel like typing for my tabulas tonight

just in time for the Super Bowl

Non-vegetarian Chili:

Just add meat to the recipe below.

I like ground turkey for my chili-- Some tips on how to handle meat additions/substitutions are at the bottom of the lab procedures

Vegetarian Chili
(Tailgate Size Batch)

Makes a gallon and a half of chili. And then some. (recipe can be halved, but then where are your leftovers?)

shop:
- 2 packages Carroll Shelby's Original Texas Brand Chili Kit (or equivalent). Shelby's comes in a 4 oz. package, which they say is good for 2 pounds of meat. The package includes individual pouches of corn flour, chili spices, cayenne pepper, and salt.
- 2 1/2 lbs. dried beans. Hurst's HamBeens 15 bean soup mix comes in 20 oz. bags, so buy 2. (why yes, I do recommend the 15 bean soup mix over just 2 1/2 lbs. of any old beans. You can get any flavor of "soup" (they offer several)-- It's the beans you want, not the soup. Discard the flavor packet
- olive oil or butter (something to sauté in)
- 2 medium-to-large onions
- 4 large cloves of garlic (more if you like)
- 1 red bell pepper
- 1 green bell pepper
- 12 oz. pack of sliced mushrooms (more if you like)
- 10 oz. pack of julienne or 'matchstick' carrots
- 2 14 oz. cans of diced tomatoes (with or without spices)

I buy mushrooms and carrots pre-cut for convenience. You can chop 'em yourself if you like, as long as you have about 2 cups of each.


hardware:
- Something to cook beans in. (large soup pot, or a crockpot. The crockpot is easier, by far.)
- a large skillet
- a big bowl or other container, large enough for 2 gallons
- a big spoon with a long handle.
- a whole lot of plastic containers for leftovers. (I use 6 cup gladware bowls, and last batch I filled 5 of them.)

recommended beer: It's cheap and comes in 24 packs-- anything to help put out the fire, right?

lab procedures:

You start by cooking a whole lot of beans. Dried beans can be a real pain in the ass to cook, but I use a crockpot which makes it much easier. Take one 20 oz. bag of beans, 3 quarts of water, and cook in a crockpot for six hours. You can stir it occasionally if it makes you feel better, but it'll be fine if you just plug it in, cover it, and then go out for a beer.

To make a full batch I have to do this twice, as the crockpot I have is a bit small. Luckily, the beans can be cooked in advance, since they will keep in the fridge for at least a week.

So now you have a whole mess of beans and some raw veggies. Drain the beans well and set them aside for now (or leave them in the fridge). Now it's time to prep your vegetables. I like to slice the peppers and onions fairly thin, more like you'd do for fajitas, rather than just chopping them into little bits. Garlic can be crushed and minced, or sliced, depending on whether or not you like whole chunks of garlic in your food.

In a large skillet, start cooking the onions and garlic in 2 tablespoons of olive oil or butter. Sauté over medium heat until the onions go translucent, then up the heat a bit so they start to caramelize. Add the mushrooms and peppers, and cover. You'll need to steam the veggies for a while so they cook down. After the peppers go a bit limp the whole mess is easier to stir. Give your veggies another five or ten minutes, and then add the carrots. The carrots should be cut fine, and you don't want to cook them long at all. (unless the idea of a little crunch bothers you. cook 'em into mush for all I care) Cover and steam the veggies for another couple of minutes, then cut the heat and move on to the next stage.

Believe it or not, you're done cooking. I used to simmer a pot of chili on the stove for hours, but now I don't think it's really necessary. The beans do take a long time to cook, but if you cheat and use something from a can you can have chili done in less than an hour.

Empty the contents of all the spice packets in the Chili Kit into your big-ass bowl. (You can cut back on the salt if you want, but the beans are unseasoned and there are a whole lot of them.) Add your cooked veggies, and a tablespoon or so of olive oil (or softened butter) and start stirring. The extra oil helps grease the wheels, so to speak, and also helps in preventing lumps in the dry spices.

Once your veggies are covered in chili goodness, add the cooked beans, both cans of diced tomatoes, and a quart of water (or 2 cans of beer). Keep stirring until it looks like chili.

At this point you're done. The chili needs to be reheated, but you can do that later, either in a large pot on the stove or one bowl at a time in the microwave. I might add some Tabasco, more cayenne, and jalapenos, but you can make it however you want.

(or set up a spice/topping bar: hot peppers, chili powder, cayenne, tabasco, shredded cheese, sour cream; it's all good stuff on chili. Folks can customize how hot they'd like it.)

If you'd rather do non-vegetarian chili (and who wouldn't?), you can substitute 2 pounds of ground chuck or turkey for one bag of beans. (Or sustitute 4 lbs. for all the beans. mmmmm.... meat. Or pick up a third packet of Shelby's chili spice mix, go with 4 lbs of meat and a bag of beans, and make a truly hellish amount of chili. Whatever, the recipe is flexible.)

If you stick with the straight veggie recipe, you can also add things after the fact. Grilled chicken, steak, or marinated and grilled portabello mushroom caps can be sliced up and thrown in later. It's also good as a dip with tortilla chips or crusty bread, and of course, chili is the thing to put on hot dogs (or on omelets & hashbrowns for breakfast. damn, now I'm hungry, and there's no way I can have chili like this done before breatfast...)

I posted my Chili recipe (or a version thereof) over on the dinnerbell blog. If you were looking for some Super Bowl eats (either for your own party, or to bring to someone else's) I'd recommend a pot of chili as a dip for tortilla chips. I've crossposted all of the recipes I used to keep here on dinnerbell-- not that you care.

I have a day off tomorrow, so I don't really need to go to bed early, but I'm beat. I'm turning in. Yes, I know it's only 9. (I'm not that much older than you so skip the old man jokes for tonight)

apparently, only my tales of suffering or debauchery seem to please you people. (whoever you people are; there seem to be a lot more of you this month.) I think tonight may combine a little of both.

I still don't know how to feel about the xgf; oh, I know how she feels (or at least what she says about the whole situation) and that's a pretty cut-and-dried sort of thing, so you'd think the matter would be over with at this point. But my own emotional state has proven to be fairly resistant to things like logic or reality... I'm a romantic fool, apparently, though that trait doesn't tend to apply often in day-to-day modern life...

even taking some time this morning for a run didn't help me much. I guess 5 and a half miles still leaves one with a bit too much time to think, even if you are out of breath. It was worth it, if only for the scenery. there's some nice trails in the local park.

Even though I often seem shallow in person, even distant--"emotionally unavailable" as one old flame put it--

o.k., so I was about to defend myself. There may not be a good defense. I'm guilty; fry me. Beyond my defenses, if anyone ever bothered to look, there is a poetic soul languishing just the other side of this stony exterior. It's this disconnect between how I feel and how I act that leads me to drink. well, that's not the only reason. That'd be an easy out. It's merely one contributing factor to my ongoing conversation with the bottle.

I admit, I'm not an easy guy to get to know, let alone to date. I'm thankful for the women who've tried. They may not think that I was as into them as they were into me: Most would say that I didn't bother to return their affections. Just because I can't show it in the same way, doesn't mean I'm an unfeeling monster.

There are scars on my heart, not just from the breakups, but from what I said and did. At least three times I've hurt others, and mortally wounded myself. If I seem reluctant to try again, it's because (at least for me) love really hurts.

And there we are.

(If P. bothers to read this, maybe she'll know why it ended the way it-- actually, no. I'm still not explaining this right. She'll never know why I want so badly to try again; she'll just assume I want her hot young bod. The fact that I do certainly doesn't help my argument. Or my state of mind.)

hell, for any number of reasons, not excluding the upcoming commercial holiday foisted on us by greeting card companies and florists everywhere, I was feeling a bit lonely and worthless this afternoon, so I went out for a beer.

What problems will this fix? none. But it makes life easier to deal with for awhile...

After seven beers and some introspection, I still don't feel like anything has been solved. And unlike most afternoons when I have the day off, I don't really feel better after hanging out in the bar and drinking all day. I still feel empty. I still feel like I have unfinished business. And because of the way she feels about it, I have no way correct that. I guess I'll just need to up the dosage.

If you'll excuse me, I have one hell of a hangover that I'm working on for tomorrow morning. I just hope that it won't take too many more beers for me to feel something like normal tonight.

I feel an obligation, since I talk so very often about "going out for a beer" and other similar activities, to detail for the general reading public just what may be involved. It's not necessarily pretty. It is what it is.

Despite the number of amateurs who try, there is a lot to be said for the dedicated professionials who do this day in and day out.

(if you decide to read this as a defense of alcoholism, then I'd have to say your sense of irony is defective. My aim here is practical; I wouldn't say I'm glorifying drinking)
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I seem to recall mentioning before that occasionally, I need to get a thought out, to articulate it or write it down before that same idea will be clear on the inside.

That seems to have worked, in this case. I don't feel nearly so bad about life, love, et. al. as I did on Thursday. I still don't have a date for Valentine's (even if it is a soulless corporate invention of a holiday, it's kind of a nice thought) and yet, oddly, I'm o.k. with that.

Today I'm going to make a pot of chili and watch DVD's all afternoon (Netflix rocks, btw. you should try it). I'm likely iced in, so this seems like a great day for it. (there was a touch of wintery weather last night here in Atlanta. Not snow but an ice storm. Still haven't bothered to look out a window but I'm sure it's lovely.)

And after a hearty meal and some long-overdue generally-lazy lounging-about-the-house, at some point this evening I might have a beer. Just the one, thanks.

Hit logging is a nice little extra you get for having a paid account on Tabulas; go pay Roy some money to see what I'm talking about.

You can go do that right now. I'll wait.

Anyway, with the hit logs I've noticed an interesting anomaly this past month: There are a hell of a lot more of you than there used to be. I took a quick inventory, and even though I've been at this a year there are still only 30 or 40 pages here. That's if you go through and find everything. Some easy math seems to point to the fact that there are, at a minimum, 20 folks who've stopped by since the first of the year.

I have a feeling it's a hell of a lot more than that. (I don't know, maybe you guys do go through all the archives or something.) And I'm not sure how to feel about that. I occasionally post some personal/incriminating stuff on here. I don't feel like changing that aspect of the journal (since that is where a lot of its appeal is, for me) and yet there is a bit of reluctance given the new audience.

The internet is still anonymous though. I know the audience is out there, but have no idea who the audience is. And for the most part, a lot of you have no idea who I am. If there is any appeal, it is the emotion and the frustration that rings true, and echoes. Sympathetic vibrations, like a tuning fork making a string vibrate, or a soprano shattering a glass across the room. It's a matter of identification, if you find something in who/what/why/where I am, and it speaks to you even if you have no idea of the particulars.

"Describe a character, and you will have found an archetype" If nothing else, I guess I am a character. (I'm an old hero from the serials: flat, black & white, and always in trouble at the end of the episode. Nothing is learned from week to week, if that kind of character development means the stupid situations might be avoided in the future. I never win, I never get the girl, or if I do it's only for the six seconds I get before fade-to-black and roll credits-- next week I'm going to mess it up again. )

(I might be stretching a metaphor too far)

(hmm. Is this just a show? I am a novelist, a fabulist. Am I also one of my own characters?)