May I pour you one, dear?

Just ran across this Telegraph newspaper article about men vs. women and "beer goggles".

"Researchers found that women who drink even moderately develop a reduced ability to rate attractiveness in male faces, even when they are sober.

Those who drank were less able to detect male facial symmetry, a marker of attractiveness and good genes which is thought to play an important role in the choice of a partner.

Results show that the more alcohol the women had drunk during the previous six months, the lower her performance on the symmetry test.

Even women who had the equivalent of five drinks a month scored less in the test than those who had no drinks. Each additional drink led to a reduced score. "

Apparently while us guys wake up and smell the roses the next day women do not. Their so-called beer goggle effect just keeps on building up as time goes by.

Does this mean that as we men fall apart a little bit (speak for yourself) over the years with minor things like bald heads and beer bellies that our wives won't notice? A comforting thought, don't you think guys?

Late Saturday... or is it early Sunday?

In a rut… and I didn’t even realize it. I guess all the snow over the past couple weeks got me down a bit, that plus the seasonal BS and a few other things. However things are looking up tonight all thanks to a little rain. Yesterday morning I was shoveling snow over a five foot bank beside the driveway and now I can actually see grass in a couple places. It started raining last night, has continued all day today and is supposed to end sometime tomorrow and in the meantime I’ve been…

…recharging with a little Led Zeppelin, a little Guns ‘n Roses, some Doors, Eric Clapton and just a touch of Frank Zappa thrown in for flavor. Mix in with that some mellow Diana Krall, Martha Wainwright and Bessie Smith along with a good series of Norah Jones tunes and there’s not much finer on a rainy evening. Life is very good right now… would you care to join me on the deck for a cigar and single malt a little later? I’ll be waiting…

Who cares?

Well over a month ago I lost my watch. I know it’s around the house here somewhere but… who cares? I haven’t needed it and I don’t miss it so I’m not going to bother replacing it. Sure I still have a few things that have to be done at certain times but my trusty Palm Pilot reminds me whenever I’m supposed to be somewhere or doing something important. I think it’s great that those events are few and far between and I like it that way.

Where is the pleasure in not having to work if you are worrying about what time it is all day long? I get up in the morning when it starts to get light and I go to bed when I feel like it with no obligations or worries.

Ah yes, retirement is good... I should have done it years ago!

December 16th: Watch found, mixed in with my Watkins inventory.

December 28th: Still haven't needed my watch. Think I'll just throw it away.

(Photo under Creative Commons License)

Traditions…

Back when the world was young the tradition was that the Christmas feast was controlled by my father and the evening before the big event my brother and I took turns helping him to make the dressing for the turkey. The old hand crank grinder was cleaned and clamped onto the work bench in the basement and out came the ingredients and several baking sheets to catch the mixture as is squeezed out through the holes of the grinder. You may ask what went into that dressing but you won’t get an answer from me. I don’t know exactly how far back it goes but I know my copy of the recipe is carefully hand-written on an old piece of paper towel in my grandmother’s handwriting and goes back to the early 60’s. She got it from her mother and for all I know she in turn got it from her mother and so on back. All I know is that it is darned good!

After our cranking was over (and following much wiping of tears caused by the onions in the mix) my father took over for the stuffing of the bird. There was always plenty of dressing to fill the cavity and two or three meat loaf pans as well which were carefully sealed with tin foil ready for the oven. The turkey itself went in around midnight and spent the overnight hours slow roasting and getting more and more tender and juicy. In the morning the heat would be cranked up for a few hours and then the top would come off the roaster for the last little bit just to brown everything up nicely. To keep the skin from drying out during such a long roast a few strips of bacon would be placed on top of the bird and the fat would keep everything soft and add a great flavor at the same time.

Christmas dinner would be at noon and naturally came complete with mashed potatoes and gravy, turnip, peas, the turkey itself and of course that great dressing which was all the better because “we” had helped. To top the entire event off was that great home-made steamed pudding and sauce made by my mother. The recipes for both of these delicacies are lost now unfortunately, but dessert sure was good and every one of those thousands of wonderful calories in that sauce were really something special. Following the feast there was much groaning and loosening of belts, for us guys anyway. My mother was much more sensible and ate very little so didn’t have the same problem as we did.

Ahhh… the old days before I got into retail and quickly learned to passionately hate Christmas (a subject for a future posting). If there was only some way to just keep that special feeling of the annual feast without all the BS it would be great. Sure, we can cook a turkey with all the trimmings anytime but it just isn’t the same as that once a year tradition to me. What about you?

(Photos used under Creative Commons License - Turkey - Cash Register)

Can I change my vote?

OK, I can’t stay quiet any longer. Would all the cry baby, spoiled brat idiots who sit in any form of opposition in Ottawa please grow up and shut up! I can’t believe that we actually elect these stupid, useless little babies who don’t give a shit about the country but only about having the biggest toys.

“If I can’t be boss then I don’t want to play.” Grow a freakin’ brain people! Yes, it’s a minority but they were elected by the people to do a job for us. If you don’t like it, tough! Just sit down and shut up and let them do the job that the people elected them to do. Will they be perfect? No. Will you be any better? No.

Stop playing games and help to run the country instead of being a poor loser and a bad example. If you have some good ideas and present them properly then anybody with a brain will listen to them. If you have nothing constructive to contribute then shut up! The problem is we can’t hear any of those whiz-bang thoughts you may have because you won’t stop whining just because you weren’t picked first for the playground hopscotch tournament.

By the way, I didn’t vote for Mr. Harper, but I’m sure ashamed that I placed my X for the other fellow about now.

(Click here for information on the Creative Commons Jackass photo)