March 6, 2003

  • Drip . Drip . Drip


    The new faucet in place, the plumber left. Almost instantly a flow of undesired water was discovered. The plumber was coaxed to return. He discovered a crack in the back of the garbage disposal unit a bit over an inch long. Delia sent Cathy to buy a new unit (they didn't consult me, preferring to leave me alone to play on my computer).

    I was attracted by loud banging noises. The old garbage disposal unit was rusted in place and required considerable force to dislodge. Eventually the new unit was installed and everything seemed to be in order.

    You all know how these things go. As soon as the plumber left, the leak started. We called his house, his wife answered, he didn't show up for several days. When he did finally show up, he fixed the problem in about two minutes, then admitted that it was his fault. He had forgotten to tighten something.

    He left.

    Something else started leaking.

    Delia called. Both Delia and Cathy work today. The plumber was supposed to arrive at 13:00, almost two hours ago. I've been waiting upstairs for him instead of going downstairs to read my email and work on PHP for my new Web page. Our canine alarm has gone off twice, once for the mailman and once for the neighbors. He doesn't bark when the plumber comes anyway, for some strange reason.

    I'm going to make myself some lunch. If the plumber doesn't arrive by the time I'm done, I'll try to take a nap. My naps are almost guaranteed to be interrupted. Hopefully he will be the interruption.

    Somehow, though, I expect a no-show.

  • Lent


    The season slipped up on us. Mardi Gras was here and gone before we knew it. None of us did anything about it. This morning, Delia went off to work as usual. Then she called me, quite worried, to ask me not to allow Cathy to cook any meat for supper. She would have fish instead.

    I had to go to Costco to pick up some medicine, so Cathy "offered" to go with me. She likes to come along when it seems likely that I'll pay. I did mention Delia's message and Cathy did understand the reason behind it without any explanations being necessary. Where we had problems was that Cathy thought I would eat foods that had fish in them, like krab, that artificial crabmeat that is a mixture of pollock and crab and (it looks like) red and white plastic. Anyway, she settled on some shrimp and some spinach ravioli.

    She obviously had something in mind, so I let her do her thing in the kitchen. The ravioli she just did in an ordinary tomato sauce, which didn't bother me because I wasn't having any pasta anyway. The shrimp surprised me, however, because they had just a touch of honey, enough to give a hint of sweetness without being so strong you could tell where it came from. I thought at first she had added fresh lime juice.

    To accompany the shrimp she served a pleasant little green wine from the Hungarian company Egervin, Egri Leányka (princess of Eger).

    I followed that with some spiced oil-cured Moroccan olives. I like them, Cathy dislikes them, Delia wouldn't touch them. Cathy had made some tiny pumpkin muffins at mid-day; she and Delia had those for their dessert.

    I wouldn't say any of us exactly missed having meat with our meal.

  • The Onion Girl


    I have finished reading Charles de Lint's book "The Onion Girl" and have written up a short review, available at Wordjames.net/reviews.html for those who are interested.

    The book runs just over 500 pages. It begins, "Once upon a time ..." and ends with an interview of the Onion Girl that I quoted in one of my Weblog entries with the knowledge of the author. In those half thousand pages, de Lint presents his characters, new and old, in a brand new dance within the fantasy world of the city of Newford, which, in some ways, resembles Ottawa. Even the crow girls put in a cameo appearance.

    If you have never visited Newford, give your mind a vacation there. I'm thinking of finding myself an apartment near there, in Mabon, so I can visit more frequently.

February 28, 2003

  • Two Slices


    For the past week I have cut out all pasta, rice, potatoes, corn, carrots and, hardest of all, bread. The reason for this drastic lifestyle change was not to lose weight nor to lower my blood sugar -- my doctors ordered me to take this step in order to lower my triglyceride levels which, while not at dangerous levels, were high. My cholesterol is under control. It was at 167 to 168 for years but has dropped to 150 while the triglycerides remained where they have been for decades.

    Research has shown that stress is probably far more important than cholesterol or triglyceride levels, especially that internal stress associated with inflammation. However, I've been nagged at for decades now, every time I pick up my morning newspaper or turn on the television, about the risk of high cholesterol, so I did a bit of research on diet. The result surprised me.

    The low fat, high carbohydrate diet recommended as being healthiest is the most probable cause of most of our modern health problems.

    Where low fat intakes were recommended, it was not the result of research on low fat diets but on speculation that high levels of body fat were caused by excess consumption of fatty foods. Where actual research was done, the results were contrary to the preconceived notions previously expressed (and officially endorsed) by the medical profession. A similar but much more confusing situation existed concerning carbohydrates, foods that can range from simple (pure sugars) to complex (veggies).

    We were told to eat pasta and to cut back on protein, avoiding animal fats like poison.

    They lied to us!

    I haven't had a chance to measure my triglycerides since cutting out the simple carbs. I have noticed a few things, though, in just a week. My blood sugar levels have dropped but I didn't have any low blood sugar problems and I never felt hungry unless I went over six hours without eating. I no longer had to get up during the night to use the bathroom. My mild flatulence disappeared completely. Mucus discharge at the corners of my eyes early in the morning vanished. There was one negative effect: on the second and third days my skin itched, especially on my shoulders and chest.

    Yesterday Delia bought me some hot Spam, manufactured with Tabasco sauce in it. I made myself a sandwich. I had the first two slices of bread I had eaten in a week. All of my problems returned.

    I like sandwiches, but I guess now they're a thing of the past. Just like apples and broccoli.

February 27, 2003

  • An Honest Plumber?


    Delia finally contacted the plumber she has been trying to reach since late last year, Sr. Morales. Always in the past, Delia has spoken with his wife and Sra. Morales has promised to pass the message along ... and that would be the last we would hear of it. Today, though, Delia spoke to the man himself, who eventually called to say he would come out in a few minutes ... and he did.

    I immediately knew there was something different about him because Rocky didn't make an uproar. Rocky came out very quietly to investigate, sniffed at his ankles and let him pass. Rocky quickly lost what little interest he showed and retired to his hiding place. It's a good thing this guy didn't come to rob us. Rocky makes more fuss over me.

    We had a bad faucet in the kitchen. This time it really was my fault. When you see a faucet on special for $14 at Fedco about a year before they go out of business, you should suspect there is something wrong with it. There was. It had one of those single handle controls and by the time we decided to replace it there was as much water coming out the base of the handle as out of the faucet itself. To compound my error I had installed it myself without the proper tools and I never got the alignment quite right nor did I get everything tightened enough.

    I got a replacement faucet at Home Depot after asking a number of people, including a couple of different plumbers, what kind I should get. The commonest suggest was to get the Moen which, at $30, didn't exactly break the bank. In fact that was one of Delia's first objections. She had paid $54 for the faucet on the bathroom sink; how was a $30 kitchen faucet going to be good enough? But Sr. Morales convinced her that not only was it good enough, it was guaranteed for life. Still suspicious, she let him go ahead with the installation, even after hearing that he would charge $50 for the work.

    The slow drip of water from the faucet has, over the years, run beyond the cabinet under the kitchen sink to stain the ceiling in the basement. Delia is convinced the whole house is ready to collapse from it. With the new faucet installed, though, the slow flooding should dry up and the problem should vanish except for the existing discoloration. The only other "leak" that Delia was worried about, Sr. Morales explained was due to Cathy not closing the shower curtain when taking a shower. Then Delia brought up our really big problem, the broken hot water pipe.

    When the house was built in the early 1950s, the hot water pipe was broken while they were laying down the concrete slab on top of it. It took over four decades for the hot water to break through the concrete and develop enough of a flow to cause a problem. As a stopgap measure, I had a switch installed on the hot water line that I turn on only when I want to take a shower downstairs. It means we only have hot water in the kitchen when I'm taking a shower. That annoys Delia.

    I showed Sr. Morales the switch and where the hot water pipe entered the slab, then I showed him the shower stall and I explained how I would like it fixed. The shower stall is shaped like a "C" with the entrance at the southeast and the old fixtures on the south wall. The old fixtures were installed in the early 1950s and were useless. They could be torn out and the water pipes capped where they emerged from the slab. Then hot and cold water pipes could be run through the walls to where the lines go up to the kitchen, tapping off new lines to go to new fixtures on the east wall. The existing plaster board walls lining the shower stall, always a poor choice and deteriorating rapidly, could be replaced with a material that would stand up better to the wet environment. Any openings made in the walls would have to be patched over so that the work was invisible.

    He gave us a quote. Delia suspects the price is too high. She is going to think about it. I hope she doesn't think too long. It would be nice to have hot water in the kitchen again.

February 26, 2003

  • Bad Drivers


    James commented "If it rained every month here people would still drive like they didn't have good sense" to my last entry in which I remarked on some very bad drivers I recently encountered. Yes, James, like the poor, bad drivers are always with us. However I like to recognize exceptional performances when I see them, and that day was notable for the number and wackiness of some of the stunts pulled in my presence.

    San Diego is a wonderful place to live, with varied geography, climate and social life. There are the beach areas, where the residents proudly proclaim, "There is no life east of the I-5". There is the city proper, downtown vs. the outlying urban communities. East County, where I reside, was always for the poorer folk until the Indians started building all of their casinos there. North County mixes the very rich, the very eccentric and others who don't really want to fit into any of the rest of the county; it used to be the empire of boat bums but I'm not sure about their status any more. There are boats there, as always, but do people live aboard them the way they used to?

    The geography and climate are different where you and I live, even as close as we are to each other. Even the nature of the shopping malls is different. The mall nearest me is dominated by a Walmart and a Sam's Club with just a few smaller stores between them. The mall nearest you is spread out over a flood plain and contains several major department stores, some good restaurants and a variety of interesting shops.

    I rarely visit your mall. The last time I was there was about three years ago, when several of us met to combine transportation into the Los Angeles area for a professional conference my wife needed to attend. I don't drive far from home very often any more. There are too many angry people out there and too many stupid people, often members of the first group. They are armed with bigger, more powerful and faster vehicles, frequently equipped with cellular phones and other distractions.

    A few years ago, I used to be able to spot drunks and other hazards by their erratic driving and simply avoid them. There weren't that many of them. Now, though, so many are driving erratically -- eating, reading, shaving, applying makeup, beating kids sitting in the back seat, even deaf people having heated discussions using sign language -- that they cannot be avoided.

    Except by not driving.

February 25, 2003

  • Idiot's Day Out


    It rained last night. The rain wasn't predicted. This seems to have caused the malfunction of brains of a large number of those who set out to drive today. This seems to be a common problem when we get rain, especially the first heavy rainfall of the year.

    The usual danger signs became obvious early: some people driving very fast, others driving very slow. The disparity in speeds causes frustration, which leads to poor decision making processes. Many of the slowest drivers migrated to the lanes usually reserved for faster drivers, those at the far left. In addition, people would apply their brakes at strange moments.

    The first real idiot was driving a black VW bug, the new style. Where the Highway 94 West enters the I805 North, the I15 North breaks off. There is always plenty of congestion. There were a couple of big trucks trying to get off of the I805, there was a school bus moving slowly up in the rightmost lane, and there was a heavy stream of traffic trying to get through the rest of it to get onto the I805. The bug whipped through at a much higher speed than anybody else, weaving about, barely missing cars and trucks, to get from the 94 to the I805, where he rapidly vanished.

    The next idiot was driving a big blue thing, one of those old cars from the sixties that weighs several tons, has a bouncy suspension, and consumes copious quantities of gasoline. Perhaps that and the current gas prices are what led to his actions, but as we were coming down the approach from the I805 North to the I8 West he pulled over to the side, left the approach, crossed several other approaches, and bounced his way to Camino del Rio North, saving himself perhaps half a mile of driving in the process of this highly questionable stunt.

    The next idiot was simply conservative. The sign at the intersection said to yield, which seemed to confuse him because there was nothing to yield to. He stopped to figure it out. Then he started, hesitated, finally moved out. He seemed to have second thoughts, though, because he almost came to a stop again. Then he took off as if the spooks were after him.

    The final adventure came on the way home. There were a series on long loads going up the I15 South, concrete poles being carried on big trucks with the rear of the poles on separate trailers about thirty yards behind the rear of the trucks. Each truck, trailer and pole had an escort vehicle and all of them had blinking lights and signs all over the place. They were moving at a respectable pace, probably about fifty, but a whole bunch of idiots would try to zoom up and cut in front of them. It is pretty rare to encounter a "vehicle" as long as a football field. When you do, you must understand that it isn't going to get out of your way. It can't get out of your way. After you pass the first one or two, it should be obvious that it takes a while to get past them. If you plan to turn off, trying to pass one of these things isn't the brightest thing you can do.

    I almost wish I hadn't been driving. It would have been nice to be able to just hover there in a helicopter, watching people get themselves into problems like painters painting themselves into corners. But I was driving and trying to stay alive and intact.

    There are always problems on the roads and freeways. Today it seemed more like slapstick than a serious process.

February 23, 2003

  • Sea Buckthorn


    This past week, when I was in the Vine Ripe market, looking for new and rare foods to try, I ran across a fruit juice from Armenia called sea buckthorn juice. Very little of the label was in English but I'm not entirely sure what language(s) they were as the alphabet didn't appear to be true Cyrillic. It seemed more stylized. The cluster of small yellow berries illustrated on the label of the box of juice was different from anything else I recall having tried, so I got one one-liter box of juice.

    Today I tried it. The juice in the container was similar to that we got by running Panama's nance through a blender. The taste was much milder than nance, though, with a hint of something like pineapple. It was quite pleasant.

    I looked up the plant on the Internet. For something I've never heard of, it seems to be quite a miracle plant. At its most basic it is used to control soil erosion. Its easy propagation from cuttings makes it economical for this purpose. Depending on location, it may grow as a low bush no more than a meter tall or a tree up to thirty meters high, with berries ranging in color from yellow through orange to red. The leaves are good for making tea. The fruit has natural sunscreen capabilities and is useful in cosmetics as well as in a variety of foods and medicines.

    The Chinese have been concentrating on the medical applications of the plant. The Russians have been using the plant in their space program, as food and in other applications. Canada has been planting them on their plateau and have developed a European market for the fruit.

February 22, 2003

  • Low Carb Day


    The last time I saw Dr. F, he and his nurse practitioner warned me to cut out certain carbohydrates: rice, potatoes and pasta. After doing a bit of research, I've added corn and carrots to the list. Not all breads are on the list, just white bread -- at least things made with white flour -- and breads of all kinds are limited.

    Yesterday was a trial day. There have been other days when I've cut back on the foods on the list. Yesterday, at least after breakfast, I eliminated listed foods.

    I have been eating a hamburger for breakfast since I was a teen. Not every day, but most days of the week. Yesterday I made it with a small English muffin instead of the big white flour bun I've been using. The muffin was a whole wheat thing with cinnamon and raisins.

    This is an aside: Cathy likes olives. When I open a jar of olives, they often seem to evaporate, particularly those stuffed with garlic. I finally found olives that Cathy doesn't like and that I do. They are the cracked olives cured in brine, Turkish style, as mentioned by Spot the Cat. The first batch I got were stuffed and Cathy stuffed herself with them. But she didn't like the plain ones, cured in brine with nothing more than a few slices of lemon and some pepperoncini. I got some oil cured olives at the same time and Cathy didn't like those either.

    Back to my day. Lunch was a salad containing hothouse tomatoes, the two kinds of olives mentioned above, cucumber slices, bread-and-butter pickle slices, red bell pepper and fresh jalapeños with a ranch-like dressing. Very filling, and it left me satisfied all afternoon.

    I didn't feel hungry when it came time to fix dinner, but Delia and Cathy were both working so I heaped a bunch of chicken thighs, drumsticks and wings (all complete with their bones and skin) in a frying pan, chopped some celery and two onions to place on top, sprinkled the mix with a bit of soy sauce and let it cook, first on medium, then on low. I goofed. I wasn't aware how much liquid those flash frozen pieces of chicken contained. My frying pan was too shallow and promptly overflowed. I lost a large part of the valuable liquid the meat cooked in. We each ate our fill, I saved the leftover meat and, a couple of hours afterwards, I heated the liquid as a super rich onion soup.

    This morning my blood sugar was 125, just where I wanted it to be.

February 21, 2003

  • The Illusion Deepens


    New sharks have entered the fray revolving about the disaster at the club in Chicago. The sharks of the club owner have let it be known that the owner is a black man who was once a friend of Martin Luther King, Jr. The uber-bigot Jesse Jackson is said to have taken an interest in the conflict.

    As far as I'm concerned, there is only one race: the human race. People make their claims of subsidiary races in order to gain fortune and glory. JJ is one of those who gets his ego boost from perpetuating the myth of distinction.

    Yes, there are variations in skin color. Yes, there are different cultures. Yes, there were injustices committed in the past.

    None of that matters.

    Forget it. Remembering it just makes you sick. Sick in the head or physically sick.

    Anyway, the bigotry sharks are seeking their share of the kill ... and it's all illusion, fantasy that they are creating and perpetuating.