knox snooze

Succotash my Balzac, dipshiitake.


Thursday, December 23
The AFC roster for the Pro Bowl has been announced, and no Titans were selected. That's a shame, especially since the conference leaders in receptions and yards receiving are both Titans.


That guy from Arizona

Wednesday, December 22 has a very interesting interview with AZ Senator John McCain. He discusses this, that, the other, and the possibility of a John McCain - Brett Favre presidential ticket in 2008.

Sign me up for that campaign.

Last Call

A drink I made last night.

Heat about 1/2 gallon of apple cider in a sauce pan on the stove. Add 3-4 cinnamon sticks, a pinch or two of nutmeg, and about the same amount of cardamom (yes, that's how it's spelled). Heat it for awhile on low heat. When it's cooked for awhile, ladle some into a mug, filling about 2/3 with cider. Fill the rest with Maker's Mark and stir with a cinnamon stick. Repeat. Don't go anywhere for awhile.

Miss me?

Monday, December 20
I wonder if I can make an entire blog out of posts that are nothing more than apologies for not posting more and excuses for the lapses.

I think I probably can.

My favorite clown

Monday, December 13
He's big, he's bad, he wears makeup. He's Infozo, and he cracks me up, regardless of whether this was on purpose.
Can we really build a better word for tomorrow that rests on a house of poor punctuation?
The emphasis is mine, but the affinity for irony and proofreading is shared.

Speaking of which, who's going to hook me up with the new Strunk & White?


This evening's menu: Angel Hair pasta, tossed in a lightly seasoned olive oil, topped with fancy-style shredded cheddar cheese, Bush's vegetarian baked beans, and Davidson's Country Store hot pepper sauce. The chef recommends the 2003 Delicato Shiraz from the Bota Box.

Bon Appetitties.

Back to work

Friday, December 10
Woohoo. Back to work today. No more trying to ignore the dog all day. Now I'm back to just trying to ignore my job.

Congratulations to Mark, wherever you are. Futon is still open for business whenever you need it.


Thursday, December 9
Damn, it won't stop raining here. We adopted a dog the other day, and it's been a real joy to take her outside to do her business in this frigid downpour. Also, I've been sick, and we all know there's no better medicine than following a dog around in the rain waiting for her to pee.

This dog has completely changed me already. I am used to having cats. With them it's easy. You fill a box with litter, place it in an obscure corner of the house, and they take care of the rest. The dog, Emma, is different. She treats the potty time as if it were our chance to get to know each other a little better, to have a father-daughter moment. Usually, she gets around to peeing, but that 12-second goal of our missive is never completed without the requisite sniffing around the yard and looking experimentally into the woods for 15 minutes or so.

I think it would be different without the rain. At least then I could take a book or something with me. Sure, a nice little stroll around the yard is nice, Emma, but let's face it, we both know why we're here. Let's not try to fool ourselves by pretending it's something different. Just get the peeing over with, and we can go back inside.

But in the rain, it's a special kind of punishment for both of us. We walk directly to "the peepee place" in the back corner of the yard, and there we cower undeer a deluge of large icy drops, Emma looking at me as if to say, "Is this really all there is to our relationship?" Me thinking, perhaps she'd go if I went first, thus spreading our shame around.

That doesn't work, in case you were wondering. I know, I know, it makes sense, but there's a disconnect somewhere with the dog. In the end, all you have is some dude peeing in the corner of his yard in a brutal December rain, and a small dog cowering beside him thinking, "Finally. I thought he'd never go."


Monday, December 6
Tonight is my last final. After that, I should be free to blog more. Expect my posts to sound drunk, though.