THE $$$$$ MAN

You're just going to have to bear with me here.  I know this is silly but it shows where a man's mind goes when he gets old and begins approaching senility.

Anyway, I was thinking the other day about the leading Republican candidate for President.

That's right!  The warm and cuddly Mitt Romney.  As I stared at his name a strange thing began to happen in my mind.  First, I thought, let's delete the first letter of his last name.

That leaves us with just "omney".  You may be beginning to get my drift.

Now let's reverse the position of those first two letters.

And what do we end up with?  Why the overriding principle for his campaign.

That would seem to indicate some type of internal psychic coding.  Since Magnificent Mittens has been shown to be far and away the richest of the candidates, since he shows little understanding of economic reality ("I make some money from public speaking . . . not much."  Well over 300 thousand dollars last year!), since he shows an incredibly tin ear ("I like to fire people" and "I'm not concerned about the poor.") and, as New York Times columnist Gail Collins frequently reminds us, he once drove to Canada with the family's dog strapped to the roof of his car . . . that coded and disguised word MONEY hidden in his name tells us everything we need to know about him.

But at least he's not as bad as Nasty Newt or as loopy as Dr. Ron "Goldbug" Paul.

Leastwise, we don't think he is.   Yet.

FRIDAY

I had a great day yesterday.  SWMBO was feeling akilter so I met the BRD for lunch at the famous Iron Springs Cafe.  We both had blackened catfish with a remoulade sauce, which is a specialty of the house and was absolutely fabulous.  Every one was smiling.

That's our great waiter, Derek, with the BRD.

Incidentally she got quite a compliment from a woman who had been sitting across the aisle from us.  As she got up to leave, she leaned in and told the BRD "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."  Wow!  I told the woman, "that's why I call her the BRD."

She asked what that meant and I told her the "Beautiful Rich Daughter."  

Afterwards, the BRD said she'd been getting all kinds of compliments since she'd let her hair color go "natural".

Speaking of natural, I was thrilled by this view on my way home after lunch.

Just west of Glassford Hill Road was a huge herd of Pronghorns.  I love seeing them.  SWMBO said she had once read that this area, gradually being lessened by the encroachment of civilization, was a traditional "birthing area" for the Pronghorns.  It seems, in spite of busy roadways and new homes, they return here year after year.



FREEDOM SUNDAY

We're nearly there, folks.  Only one two more days.

Tomorrow Sunday is the annual Stupor, oops, Super Bowl.  This year the New England Patriots take on the New York Jets.  Like the oddsmakers, I pick the Patriots and the great Tom Brady to win.

But here's what is truly important about tomorrow's Sunday's game.

It's the last one of the season!

Soon the overweight brutes of the gridiron can get out of the way as we true fans of sport prepare for the mighty season.

The right season.

THE BASEBALL SEASON!!!

Yay!  Whoop!  Hooray!

My prediction is the same this year as it has been for years past.

The Arizona Diamondbacks will win the 2012 World Series!

Place your bets.

(Football season has lasted too long . . I originally typed the name of that team above as the Arizona Cardinals!)

(My Lord!  I don't even know what day it is!  Note corrections above.)

A STORMY DAY

This morning SWMBO came into my den and said "it's snowing."

I turned and looked out the window and saw maybe three or four snow pellets falling.  That soon stopped and the rest of the day was mostly sunny.

But as I went out later this afternoon I caught this kind of Andrew Wyeth-looking scene.

Further in toward town, I snapped a couple of photos through the windshield.  (Yeah, I know.  I should never have let SWMBO know that.)  What caught my gaze was what looked sort of like a white tornado in the distance.

I guess it was just the front end of a rain squall moving across the horizon.  No buildings flattened in town as far as I could see.

I did take a photo of the big flag above Roberts' Market to show you how briskly the breeze was moving.  And I left some cars in the picture so you could see how big the flag is.

So far the weather seems to be moving around us except for the wind and some cooler temperatures than we've been having.

WHALE RESCUE

You have to watch this video.



POTPOURRI

Well, as expected Willard Mitt(ens?) Romney won the Florida primary.  Leroy Newt Gingrich was a distant second.  Which just goes to prove one thing about American politics: the dirtier your campaign, the more success you're likely to have.

After watching CNN project the winner the instant the polls closed, we quickly lost interest.  Tried a show on the Comedy Channel but it was too obscene for SWMBO and I wasn't paying attention.  Switched over to PBS and watched an entertaining program on Annie Oakley and a second one on Jesse James.  SWMBO is related to the Missouri outlaw but this program didn't make her feel proud.

Had seconds of Chicken Piccata and Fettucini Alfredo tonight and it was just as good as the other night.  SWMBO cleaned up a loaf of white bread I made the other day by turning it into excellent garlic toast to accompany the meal.  Butter pecan ice cream for dessert.  Damn!  We just eat too good.  Which may explain why we're both constantly nattering about how to lose weight.

My friend, Tom, was on his horse again today about Facebook and how we, the contributors, should share in the wealth the company is making because we provide the content.  I didn't get it when we went around about this awhile back and I still don't get it.  I seriously doubt if anything I or Tom might contribute to the conversation could be worth a sou.  But we have agreed to disagree.

I hear the Indianapolis Colts absent quarterback Peyton Manning has said today that he is not ready to retire.  That kind of statement usually means he's about to retire.  We'll see.  Thank goodness baseball season is only a few weeks from beginning.

The Stupor Bowl is Sunday.  I'm picking New England over New York.  But, as I have said often, I don't really follow professional football.  Tom Brady just looks to me to be unbeatable.

My computer has been running erratically slow since it was last worked on last Friday.  I found some instructions to change the size of virtual memory and did that tonight.  We'll see what happens.  I may need more RAM (random access memory - you didn't think I knew that, did you?  'Course I have no idea what random access memory means.)

Oy ve.  I think I'll call it a night.

IT'S THOSE LITTLE THINGS

A long time ago, back in the 1970's, when I was still a news reporter at a television station in Phoenix, I conned the news director into sending me to Washington, D.C. for a few days.  I thought it would be a good idea to do interviews with our congressional delegation as a new session of Congress was beginning.

So away we went, my buddy and photographer Steve and I.  'Course we had to do the standard stand-up in front of the capitol.

Now, Steve is a kind of a cut-up, as you can tell from this next picture.

Uh, well, I guess you can't.  But he soon had me posing in this Playgirl Magazine pose.



Oh, c'mon.  You didn't think I was going to take off my clothes, did you.  If I had, I might be a Senator from Arizona by now.

But anyway, none of this really matters except to set the scene for a culinary adventure.  One of the nights we were in town, we hooked up with a couple I had known back in Indianapolis, when I had worked there before decamping for Arizona.  They were working in D.C. by then . . Frank for some kind of public television operation and his wife, Hank, for Rolling Stone magazine . . and lived in Georgetown.  They took us to a favorite restaurant just a few blocks from where they lived.  Wish I could remember the name of it but it's lost to history.  (And to a bleary memory caused by way too many drinks that night.)  As I looked at the menu, I spotted something called Veal Piccata.  I not only had not eaten veal at that time in my life, I had never even heard of this dish.  But I tried it.  It was delicious!  Lemony and buttery and fantastic.

O.K.  Now we move ahead aways.  When we got back to Phoenix I raved to my wife about this meal.  'Course the Internet didn't exist then and I stupidly didn't go to the library to look it up in an Italian cookbook.  But SWMBO, being the true wonderful cook that she was, decided to create the dish.  It wasn't the same.  Oh, the veal was tender and lemony and buttery but it just didn't have the same bite that dish had back in Georgetown.  The attempts to create it went on for a couple of years, as I recall, with no success.

Until.  Until we got a Bon Appetit magazine one day which had a cover feature on a dozen or so great chicken recipes.  One of them was for Chicken Piccata.  It sounded great and it mentioned an ingredient we hadn't ever used.  Can you guess?  Capers.  Yes, capers.  So SWMBO prepared the dish and we held our breath until the first taste and . . . BINGO!  The capers were what made the piccata, well, piccata.  We coupled it with some fettucini alfredo and it became one of our favorites.

We had it last night and after nearly 40 years, it's still as good as ever.