Obama On Jobs: "We Don’t Know Yet What Happened," Everything is unexpected, by John Hayward is a clear cut review of how Obama is either stupid or evil--there's only the two choices. Which do you think he is?

New Bike Route, First Spill in a Long Time

This is my old route.

This is my new route.

It skims 100 meters off my trek, and replaces two hills that require a little work to one hill I can practically coast up.

Unfortunately, most of the new route is a dirt road, and part of it is a foot path through the woods and around some building. On the way home from work yesterday I went over this concrete slab lying across the path, but took little note of it because it was just a drop, not a real obstruction. This morning, however, going the other direction, going quickly, going through the morning dew with shitty brakes, it was a definitely a real obstruction. It obstructingly sent my ass tumbling over the handle bars and onto the ground is what it did! You know what, though? It was worth it to find out that I'm still young enough to take a spill like that with no lasting pain and ride the rest of the way to work with no delay.

Article of the Day

Government Against Blacks, by John Stossel, is very interesting. I did not know these things, at least not in detail. I'm glad I read such a good explanation.

More Success than Not (though it was close)

This weekend we threw our first warm weather party of the year. Things quicky got, not exactly out of control, but you might say the control was sub par. This was in large part due to the arrival of Donatas and Giedre first. Donatas had some very tasty moon shine, man it was good.

• Success: drinking tasty moonshine.

I mean, this was so good I couldn't believe some farmer made it in the woods. It was easily better than cheap whiskey, which is what it tasted most similar to. However, this led to us going through it pretty quickly, which led to lowered hand-eye coordination and time sense for both of us. That was particular detrimental to our Beirut game because partners were chosen randomly and Donatas and I ended up together.

• Unsuccess: losing the first 2 games of Beirut.

First Gvidas and Linas beat us, finishing with two bounced balls which both made it when we had exactly four cups left. Why didn't we block them? I tried, and I almost got one, but I was distracted by Donatas's absence! I realized at the last moment that I have to block both and ended up knocking in the one I almost blocked and letting the other one bounce in too. Where was he? Ten feet away doing something.

While we were getting the grill going my special lady came over and said something, and I replied with a really hilarious remark, a perfectly cued and timed "that's what she said" style remark.

• Success: making a hilarious a joke.

It was so funny that Linas, Paulius, and I then talked about how none of us could believe I came up with it so rapidly, instantly really. It was like I was born to make that joke even though I didin't know it. What was that joke, exactly?

• Unsuccess: forgetting all the funny jokes you made last night.

I talked about it with Linas the next day, neither of us could remember.

Then came the meat. I'd prepared chicken wings and a pork loin, which I was precooking in the oven. I wasn't confident that it'd cook through on the grill. We got everything going and put on my wings, and the sausages, burgers, and two steaks that Linas and Paulius had brought. All that stuff took up the whole grill, so the pork loin had to wait. But when it came off it was delicious.

• Success: eating delicious barbequed food.

I told the men to get some more embers going for the pork loin. When I went inside I found that it was already completely cooked.

• Unsuccess x 2: losing track of time and burning too much wood.

I pretended this wasn't true, though, and I put it on the grill for a couple mintes. Then, Voilà , it's done! We ate all the food with my homemade barbeque sauces.

• Success x 2: making delicious barbeque sauces, plus my spicy whiskey one was better than the non-spicy brandy one I made fore my special lady.

Everybody loves a good sauce, right? Spice rules! Whiskey beats brandy every time!

Then Donatas and I took on Egle and Gvidas for another round of Beirut. Egle is one of the best players around, so they should have beat us for sure if Gvidas and Linas had beaten us. But no, we prevailed! I don't think I sunk all ten cups by myself, but I did sink the first six at least.

• Success: redeeming yourself at the Beirut table.

However, Donatas was so happy he gave me a high five that I can still feel on my hand four days later.

• Unsuccess: hurting your Beirut partner.

Then it was time to mellow out. Because women love to have their girl-time, the men decided to leave them be and went out to the beer barrel down the street for a drink. We are aware that ladies need time in person to talk about their ovulations and shopping plans, and we don't mind accommodating them.

• Success x 3: drinking and winning at cards while accommodating your special lady

Apparently, we may have overestimated the amount of girl-time that could be spent productively. Actually, what is more likely is that we underestimated how long we spent out. But, really, what is most likely is they my special lady, Asta, Giedre, and Egle overestimated how long we spent out and convinced each other we must have done it because we're inconsiderate—which you know is the opposite of the truth if you've been paying any attention at all. It was a classic example of groupthink, unfortunately not an atypical result of girl-time.

• Unsuccess: upsetting your special lady.

Sunday we still had a couple guests over, so we figured the best way to get through the dry pork loin was with sandwiches. I baked two loaves of beer bread with left over beer and 24 onion mustard rolls.

• Success: baking delicious food.

Four adults, one child, and one toddler managed to eat all the rolls and one of the loaves of bread in one day. It was a fun day.

• Successes: bearing mention too, we fired up the sauna and had a good time in there, went swimming both days, and got rather toasty in the sun on Sunday.

Sunday is my daughter's favorite day (because it's so sunny, unlike Windsday).

Article of the Day

After reading Ignore Geithner’s debt ceiling scare tactics, by James Pethokoukis, I'm not scared anymore. Thanks dude!

Article of the Day

President Scofflaw, by Jack Kelly, certainly is mistifying. How does Obama get away with it?

Coincidence

Last week I made a reservation at the Katerina Hotel, but I haven't been able to get a written confirmation. When I called the concierge assured me the room is mine, but when I asked them for a confirmation by fax or email, he proceeded to dictate to me his email address. I took it, to email him to explain what I needed in writing, but he still didn't email me back.

Today I booked a room at Novus Hotel next door. Planning on canceling the Katerina Hotel booking as soon as Novus confirmed, I then had this confusing email exchange:

DEAR MRS VEBRA

WE ARE PLEASED TO RESERVE A SINGLE ROOM FOR YOU AT THE PRICE OF 75E PER NIGHT. IF YOU AGREE PLEASE INFORM US TO PROCEED AT THE RESERVATION.WE WILL NEED ALSO A CREDIT CARD NUMBER AS A GUARANTEE FOR YOUR RESERVATION.

KIND REGARDS

KATERINA

FRONT DESK

I agree, thank you very much. I'm Mr. Vebra, by the way.

Let me make get something clear: is Novus Hotel the same as Hotel Katerina?

MR VEBRA,

NOVUS HOTEL IS LOCATED CLOSE TO HOTEL KATERINA. IT IS A 4 STARS HOTEL AND IF YOU LIKE YOU CAN ALSO VISIT OUR WEB SITE. ALSO WE CONFIRM YOUR RESERVATION AND WE ARE PLEASED TO WELCOMING YOU IN OUR HOTEL.

WE ARE AT YOUR DISPOSAL FOR ANY FURTHER INFORMATION

REGARDS

KATERINA

FRONT DESK

Ok, so my reservation is confirmed at Novus Hotel, right? (I ask because your signature says Katerina Front Desk)

WE CONFIRM YOUR RESERVATION.BY THE WAY MY NAME IS KATERINA AND I’ M WORKING AT THE FRONT DESK.

REGARDS

If there's a place in France where the naked ladies dance, we didn't go there.

"Ah, France!" That's what I say now after I burp in stead of atsiprašau. You see, I didn't meet any Frenchmen on my travels who dispelled the notion I have of them as rude bastards; therefore, the notion has been corroborated by lack of negation.

Shall I begin at the beginning? No that's boring. And I'll also skip my review of Ryanair because that'll be a-whole-nother blog entry.

Wednesday

We showed up at the subway station and met Moacir in the evening as planned. Our journey to Paris was almost over. We drank a beer on the walk from the subway to his place--it's not Vilnius, he explained, nobody cares if you drink in the street. Fine by me.

We got to his place and unloaded our stuff. If I had condensed this to one my my "Dos and Don'ts of a Trip" write-ups, the first do would be Do stay with Moacir. The convenience of getting extensive daily practical guidance and having a local as a companion most of the time was invaluable. When we arrived he had some leek and potato soup prepared for us, some stinky cheeses, and a very interesting tasty cake. It's a King Cake, which is illegal in America because there's a surprise inside: a plastic toy. Whoever get the toy in his piece of cake is then made king by a cardboard crown that comes with the cake.

Conclusion: Grocery store food in France is great!

Thursday

We took the subway to the Harlem of Paris, Barbès Street. You walk out of the subway and dozens of Africans try to sell you contraband Marlboro Reds. Your wife says, wow, everybody's so black in Paris! You go to eat and there's no pork. So it was a neat place to see, and in fact the restaurant we went to, Le Nioumré, was excellent. I got the lamb and my special lady got the chicken. They were served in metal bowls with lots of sauce and a huge platter of rice on the side for the two of us, we served ourselves onto blank plates. My sauce was a regular red sauce, hers was a very spicy lemon sauce. Delicious as it was, we couldn't finish it. We ate all the meat, but there was rice and sauce left, which is a winning combination in my book, but I simply couldn't eat anymore. That never happens!

We then strolled through a gorgeous park up the hill to the The Basilica of the Sacred Heart of Jesus of Paris (Sacré-Cœur Basilica). It had fascinating stairs, especially the railings: they were concrete replicas of wood, but they were so well done that in the spot on a log where moss might grown between the timber and a piece of bark, moss grew here, too. Neato.

After a bunch of walking around and looking at stuff came the most unpleasant part of the trip. My special lady went up to the first landing of the long stairway up to the Basilica, and I stayed down at the bottom to photograph her. But she never showed up on the first landing. Fearing she'd been accosted, I ran to follow, luckily, because it turned out I was right: a bunch of Africans had blocked her path up and forced her to try on a bracelet, and then tried to force her to pay for it. I got there just in time. They tried to do the same to me, but I had none of it, and got her the fuck out of there, but not without taunts and insults from them. We left with a dilemma rather than the picture we wanted: if I didn't have my wife with me to protect I wouldn't have held my tongue (which surely would have gotten me into a fight); but, if I didn't have my wife with me, I wouldn't have had anything to do with them in the first place.

Next we meandered to an art show for an Antanas Sutkus exhibition. The wine was poor but it was free. The art was good but expensive, and anyway we weren't about to start buying books to fly home with. This was about the time we came across our first pee pod: free public toilets that wash themselves after every use. They are very useful, but I think after every use is overkill: besides the waste, you have to wait a minute between each person's use, and add to that the time it takes for the door to automatically open, close, and then again open, and close. If Moacir, my special lady, and I all go to pee, it takes five whole minutes. She and I usually went in together to save time, but that's technically against the rules.

We went home, ate some baguettes and delicious stinky cheese, and began watching Community, a very good show that we ended up watching a few episodes of most evenings.

Friday

Moacir doesn't work Fridays, so we took off together in the morning. We walked from his place to the Eiffel Tower, seeing many things on the way--not a short distance, about four miles. But also did an obscene amount of shopping on the way; we estimated an additional four miles walking around shopping centers. We were very tired by the time we got to the tower (I would have gladly given up and picnicked on a bus stop bench), but the picnic lunch was fantastic: baguettes, some other whole-wheaty sort of bread, hummus, some other spicy sauce, two types of olives, smoked sausage, various stincky cheeses, swiss cheese, Arugula, three bottles of wine, and two cans of Dr. Pepper.

We had to sit down on the most secluded bench in the park overlooked by the Eiffel Tower because, although drinking in public is not against the rules in Paris, it is against the rules in this park. You might guess that to keep tourists from getting to rowdy, but I suspect it's to keep tourists from seeing all the Parisian winos. We began with the refreshing soda, which my special lady and I hadn't tasted for years since we were in Minneapolis last. Long time for Moacir too, so that was a tasty treat. We moved on to the wine and olives, the hummus and bread, then the cheese and sausage and baguettes and lettuce, which we used for sandwiches. Moacir had brought wine glasses, so we were styling.

One cop rode by about forty feet from us, so luckily we moved our glasses into extra discreet position, because seconds later two other cops rode up on horseback just ten feet away behind Moacir's back. He heard them coming, and so didn't look. One stopped, then the other stopped and backed up, and I, having been caught mid-sentence, was then obliged to keep talking, to feign nonchalance, and with my voice slightly raised, to make sure they could hear that we speak a language they don't know. Of course, we probably might English too, but what horse-riding frog-eating surrender-monkey cop wants the trouble having to explain that you can't drink wine here in English to people who might not even understand English, or at least his English? Not these two, because they turned around and went the other way. Success.

We went home, played a little buck euchre, my special lady took her reprieve, one of Moacir's friends, Linas, show up, and we played Tūkstantis till the cows came home (cows come home at 3a.m.).

Saturday

Waking up at 8 a.m. after those stupid cows came home last night--not the funnest moment of the trip. But we had an early engagement, so we had to get going. By ten o'clockish we were at the French National Assembly, which is apparently a big deal. Some Frenchman on the street was surprised we were getting a tour. Anybody who passes a background check can tour our Parliament in Vilnius. Isn't the same true for Congress the States?

The Assembly was interesting. Well, the only part that was really neat for me was the two faced painting of the king. Some legend went with it, and it was neat.

After that we went with some of the other young folks for lunch. The food was not expensive and the wine was okay. But there was something off about the food. At first it was a meat sandwich, good, and something I couldn't quite put my finger on... potatoes! Potatoes au gratin in the sandwich! Potato chips may well make for a tasty sandwich addition. Potatoes au gratin do not.

Sunday

We went to a world famous falafel place—some rock star loves the food there. We walked aournd town again and went to see the Notre Dame cathedral. We ended up at a bar called WOS where the owner, Pierre, loves Lithuanians. We went there to watch the Seattle Seahawks play the Chicago Bears, I think it was an important game leading up o the Super Bowl. Moacir kept singing the fight song over and over again:

Bear down, Chicago Bears, make every play clear the way to victory;
Bear down, Chicago Bears, put up a fight with a might so fearlessly.
We'll never forget the way you thrilled the nation with your T-formation.
Bear down, Chicago Bears, and let them know why you're wearing the crown.
You're the pride and joy of Illinois, Chicago Bears, bear down.

Monday

We tried to go to the catacombs, but they were closed. We finally made it out to the toy store. I always try to bring back locally-made tradition gifts: a dress for the wife, a doll for the #1 daughter, and a souvenir shot glass for myself. I give the dolls local names. The glasses are the hardest to find locally-made, but the others can be too. Often the best I can find is not-made-in-China. But I always try. We got a few addresses for toy stores, and the first one was good enough: we got #1 a kitchen set with plastic dishes and utensils made in France, and we got the #2 a squeaking chicken made in the Philippines (I still think it’s actually a dog toy, but she likes it).

On the way back we stopped for pizza. I always like to try the pizza whereever I go. The best I’ve had in Europe was in Denmark, but it was made by an English born Arab. The best I’ve ever had in the States was delivered in Buffalo, I’m trying to remember the name of the place. The French pizza was pretty good, but what I really like was that each pizza came with a condiment: hot pepper oil.

Tuesday

We succeeded in getting into the catacombs. The story is at some point in the 18th century there wasn’t any more room in Paris to bury people (Paris is actually smaller than Vilnius), so they decided to turn former mines into catacombs. All the human bones buried in Paris were transferred there because they had piled up so much there were starting to cause disease—the catacombs contain the remains of about 6,000,000 people! The bones are stacked to fit in most places. It's pretty unbelievable. On the way out the guard stopped us to check our bags. When we asked if people steal bones he showed us a few. I asked him if those were from this morning, as a joke, but he said yes. There was a skull and seven other bones.

In this evening we went back to the Eiffel Tower: seeing it in the twighlight was my special lady's dream come true. It was a good thing we went back because evening is when all the bootleggers are out selling souvenirs. We bought two large mini Eiffel Tower and five small mini Eiffel Tower for 3€. They would have cost at least triple that in shops.

Wednesday we went home.

Wanna Business Trip Report Fast?

I present here a generic business trip report practically nobody couldn't hand in. Fill in a few blanks and maybe you'll need to change a few words. But far fewer than I had to change after finding this sample.

In ________I attended meetings in ________which were held at _________. The meeting leader was _________, a lecturer and administrator at _________.

We talked about strategic alignment – how important it is that our office enables our office strategy, which supports our institution’s strategy. We looked at the challenges presented today. We must use multiple media and build relationships– not just service short term needs.

We learned the “why, what, how, who, when” of a broad array of technologies, from basic functions to advanced tools. We started with a discussion about infrastructure.

We talked about capabilities, at both basic and advanced levels. We also looked at advanced management tools such as workforce management systems, simulation tools, and quality and logging systems. We talked about self service and the powerful case it can have with the right application opportunities. We discussed things like conditional and skills based systems. The advanced technologies will help delivering better service to our students.

We looked at the specific capabilities of each technology, as well as the challenges it addresses. For each one, we discussed the major issues. Updates to this will be available to us on an ongoing basis.

The instructor explained how the various technologies work together, and how different configurations could address similar issues. We also talked about the benefits to the institution, manager, the office, and of course, the student.

We had group exercises to apply what we were learning, and a lot of good discussion among the group members. In addition to the materials already mentioned, the course packet included a number of other useful takeaways, including a glossary, and a brochure.

I think this course was worth attending. I would recommend that others from our organization attend. I learned a lot about the many technologies and have new ideas about why they make sense in our work and what we should do next.

Vegetarianism One Month at a Time

Thanksgiving: sixteen pounds of turkey, five pounds of pork (in the sausage stuffing), and a pound or so of bacon bits in the potato salad. Although we had a few guests, we had all the leftovers to ourselves. Now that's what I call a meat orgy.

Now what do people do the morning after an orgy? Bang, again? No, they just leave to go home without looking too many people in the eye. So I figured it should be after a meat orgy: let's try living without meat for a month.

Rules: no new meat from November 27th until Christmas Eve. I would have said Christmas but the Christmas Eve fish counts. I decided to go all out (Moacir) instead of pesco-vegetarian (Ed). However, the exception (and it's a big exception) is that I could still eat old meat, such as the leftovers from Thanksgiving. But this is reasonable: I figure, okay, so you become a vegetarian--that doesn't mean you toss all the meat you already own, right? I abhor food waste. But besides this one exception I was determined to make no others, particularly regarding eating out, so that I would get a real glimpse of what a few of my friends live like.

Those leftovers kept me meated up for a good week...you wouldn't believe how much stuffing you just keep finding in the bird, it's like it's multiplying! This was very lucky, because I could bring turkey sandwiches to work each day. The cafeteria where I work is not the most vegetarian friendly place around ("Excuse me, is there any meat in this vegetable soup?" "Of course there is, how can you have soup with no meat?!").

My first incident came on Friday: I was invited to lunch with a group of education experts visiting us from around Europe. Usually I'm happy to get a free lunch, and usually I enjoy sticking out, but this is a serious crowd. I ate my salad being careful to scrape all the crab meat to the side of my plate. That was no biggie, but I knew they'd be serving meat as the entrée (How can you have lunch with no meat?). They did. But one of the experts who is Lithuanian pointed out that our French guest doesn't eat meat, and I was able to slip in with "Neither do I!" Phew. So, naturally, everybody began eating his meat while they went back to the kitchen to make us crepes; otherwise, their food would get cold. They were about done eating when I said to my French colleague, "These are gonna be some great crepes!" We all laughed, but is this really the life of a vegetarian? Sometimes, when a lunch is poorly organized, you have to wait while everybody else is eating? That sucks.

My next incident came that very evening. I wrote it up here. I wonder if real vegetarians are ever caught so off guard.

The next week I went to a seminar that was better organized: the coordinator asked everybody ahead of time about dietary restrictions. She thought I was joking when I said no meat. How about fish, she asked. No, fish is meat I said, it's just poor man's meat. One of the seminar participants knew me from my old job in Klaipeda. When she went into the lunch room and and saw the styrophome box seperate from all the normal other food, she said, "Somebody's a vegetarian? It's probably Aras." She said it in a positive way, so I was happy to get this unexpected compliment.

Incidentally, I later asked her why she jumped to that conclusion. Turns out she remembers once at college when I tried this diet where I order kefir and vegetables including tomatoes, beets, and cabbage for lunch, put them in a blender I brought from home, and gag the cocktail down. I remember it as gross, but she remembers it as innovative and unusual (like vegetarianism).

My next incident came when I got the reminder about the upcoming Gentlemen's Dinner that takes place every 6 weeks. Here's my email reply to Alex, who organizes them:

During the meat orgy we call Thanksgiving, I decided to try eating less meat over the following month--as a challenge. A sort of vegetarian light--no new meat purchases: I still ate the leftover from the holiday, those lasted almost a week, and I can eat meat from the freezer. The purpose isn't weight loss, but my pants do feel a little looser after two weeks.

It's going quite well sociologically also. I've had several interesting/uncomfortable experiences of having to say "Oh, sorry, I won't be able to eat that," and I've made good friends with my Vegetables cook book and the vegetable chapters in several volumes.

And then I got your reminder. First I thought, "Oh nice!" and then I thought "Oh crap! Well actually, this will be another interesting vegetarian experience...eating around the meat with a bunch of people all enjoying the same thing except for me...but shit, 100 lits is alot of money even with the meat, can I afford to drop that just for a little anomie? Wait a second...I RSVPed to this before Thanksgiving, so maybe this counts as food from the freezer...yes, sure it does, food from the freezer. I'm going!"

The last incident was my office's Christmas party. We went to Bravaria, which I organized. I chose it based on the beer, not the food, which turned out to be a mistake. When I asked her to show me the vegetarian entrées, the waitress told me, "Uhm, not really, we don't make those. Take a look at the salads." And voilá! There was indeed one salad without meat in it. Is this the life of a vegetarian?

Now, at this point, if you're vegetarian, you may be thinking, just go to vegetarian restaurants. Well guess what, vegetarian restaurants are few and of dubious quality, at least in Vilnius. I remember how anxious Ed was about the fate of the Lebanese place on Traku; it's one of the good ones.

The incidents would have been far more if I hadn't avoided eating out. It seemed like too much hassle, and as I said to Alex, I'm not going to pay restaurant prices for something with no meat! Furthermore, Gedas once undertook a study that proved that vegetarian dishes are significantly more expensive than meat dishes at Lithuanian restaurants.

Besides these incidents, there was one fun aspect of the meat-free month, as I mentioned in my email to Alex: I spent much more time than usual with my Vegetables and other cook books. One recipe that is definitely here to stay is Ratatouille. Man, how can it be so good with no meat? Fried eggplant sandwiches, too, so I guess eggplant is the big winner here. Also Old Maids, which are pretty similar to English muffins.

The other upside of this month was that it gave me an excuse I always welcome: an excuse to make myself a BBQ Bacon Explosion for Christmas!

Article of the Day

Snooty Europhiles should be forced to crawl in penitence, by Boris Johnson, is quite a fun little article. I like this guy's style.

And I'll add, I heard about a month ago Estonia was moving forward with taking on the Euro. For real? Don't they see what's happening?!

Misadventure to the Beer Store

Stupid bus.

I stayed late at work Friday, till after six. I was supposed to meet somebody, but plans changed, so I went to catch the 6:15 #50 bus, which was lucky because it's the only bus I can take and it only runs every 45 or so.

I was out there by 6:10, because the Stupid #50 Bus has a propensity for earliness. Technically the bus schedule should be read +/- 3 minutes, but the #50 has no regard for punctuality, or the lives ruined by leaving bus stops without the people they should be carrying. At 6:25 I gave up waiting.

Instead of waiting a half hour for the next bus, I decided to hike to the beer store--make the most of my time, do something productive. It's not that far from work, fifteen minutes in the snow, but I wouldn't normally go after work because I'm always in a rush to get home. The beer store is a place that sells micro-brewed beer from the tap--it's the only Lithuanian beer I'll buy besides Gubernijos, and it's very good but also cheap: great combo!

I slip on the ice a few times on the way, without falling but with some strain on my left quadricep. The beer store is in a large shopping complex including a mall surrounded by other smaller buildings each with one or more shops or service business.

I'd never come from that direction so I wasn't sure if I was at the right place--there was no beer store. I called my special lady to ask, because the one time we'd been to this location together she was driving. I'm just not finding it, she thought. But no, asking around got me the truth: the beer store has moved about 80 meters to a different location. Where is it, exactly? Nobody can tell me. The information booth in the mall is closed. But I've come too far now to quit, so I just keep wandering around in the dark asking people if they know.

My special lady gave me the administrative phone number from the beer store website, which is supposed to operate 24/7. No answer. I talked to Auriukas, who lives close to there, but he just new that they'd moved not far and "on the same side." Hmm.

Finally I went into a farmers marker. There were a just a few vendors left. I went up to a booth with a woman and her son and asked them. "Yes," she said, "they're new location is right over there," she pointed, "but they haven't opened yet, they're still just moving in." Ugh. When the woman offered me some kvass instead I felt too defeated to say no. Then she offered me some bacon, and I ate two pieces before realizing that I'm a vegetarian this month. Oops. I felt bad for not living up to Ed and Moacir better--but, really, wouldn't you be caught off guard if somebody randomly offered you some bacon in that situation?! It's only my second active day of vegetarianism.

After that I walk to the closest bus stop and am pleased that the #50 bus is about to come. Five minutes later I give up waiting for it yet again. Stupid bus.

Thanks Time

As always we celebrated Thanksgiving on the Saturday following the holiday. That week I gave all of my students articles to read about the objectivist perspective on it.

We decided to do a smaller, more family oriented celebration this year, which we soon realized was a mistake when we couldn't invite everyone we wanted to. But everything was delicious:

• 16 lb. Turkey, freshly slaughtered and kefir marinated
• Gravy
• Cream of Pumpkin Soup
• Potato Dinner Rolls from my McCall's cookbook
• Roasted Carrots with Whiskey Glaze
• Sausage Stuffing
• Guacamole and fresh vegetables
• Potato and Bacon Salad
• Sauerkraut Rye Bread
• Fresh Pumpkin Pie 1 normal, 1 with whiskey mixed in
• Fresh Pumpkin Cake

The pumpkin cake was unplanned. I made two pies, but that only used up about two thirds of the batter! To use up the rest of the batter without a pie crust to pour it into I mixed in some flour and baking power, tossed in some walnuts, and baked it. It turned out really well, and it stayed moist for a whole week as I took a piece to work with my lunch each day.

The turkey was succulent. I'll be marinating it this way from now on.

The stuffing was the best part of the meal, as always. Well, maybe the gravy was better, but when combined they were unstoppable.

After dinner we played Oh Hell a couple times, then Octopus, then Tūkstantis, then we hit the sauna and the pool. The pool was frozen, so we went polar bear style. I'm not sure how it happened, but after jumping into the hole in the ice I had some scrapes on my legs. Very fun night!

Article of the Day

For Tottering States, Bankruptcy Could Be the Answer, by Michael Barone, is a very interesting idea. I wonder why I've never heard of that.

Robin Hood Review

Robin Hood (2010 ) was a mess. There were a number of things that made no sense, culminating most notably in the final scene when French soldiers invaded England in what, the 13th century, using Higgins boats (invented specifically for use in WWII), the French soldiers are then pummeled with arrows from mystery archers, and their remaining forces are slaughtered by soldiers on horseback suddenly and inexplicably including Marion Loxley and her ragtag squad of sickly orphan runaways who have inexplicably and miraculously become ninjas over the past week. It was fitting that a movie with so many holes in it ended this way. Why the hell did they show the white horse, incidentally? Just one more anachronism I had to look up after watching the movie.

But it wasn't all bad. I didn't feel like giving up on the movie until only about 30 minutes remained, and I'll tell you why. The symbolism was quite intersting.

General Symbols
•By increasing spending and especially taxes the democratic party is Very Evil, and it gives our enemies a golden opportunity to divide and attack us.
•The French are untrustworthy and devious.

Specifically
•King Richard was George Bush: start a costly war that will supposedly pay for itself, and right before it's over hand your crown over to the next ruler.
•King John: the naive, inexperienced ruler who takes over at the end of a war that has turned from popular to terribly unpopular; raise taxes to the point they can only be collected by force because they're starving people; abandon all previously embraced bipartisan notions once your position's been secured.

I'd say the 6.9 IMBb gives the movie may be a bit too high, but in the vicinity. I should mention that I watched the unrated version, which is I think 10 or 15 minutes longer than what you may have seen in theaters.

Article of the Day

When Thought Becomes a Crime, By Richard Cohen, makes a very good point. Several of them, actually. A crime is a crime. Why does what you think about it make a difference?

Article of the Day

Post Office Shows Where U.S. Is Headed, by Kevin Hassett, is a scary account of what America's future could be like. The evacuation part made me laugh though.

Tonsillectomy

I'm very anti-surgery, but after having tonsillitis and laryngitis four times last winter, I decided to do it. Especially after the surgeon showed me how much puss is in them when I'm feeling healthy. That was over the summer.

To the hospital I brought The Lord of the Rings, which I'm half way through. I also brought half of the 7th Harry Potter book on tape, which I have not read before, on my mp3 player. All I could fit was 14 chapters, which I will comment on more later.

I had to show up at the hospital at 7 a.m. unfed and unfueled. They had lost my file when I went to registration, but for some reason that was no problem, they just started me up a new one. I took it to go meet my surgeon. He didn't show up until 8, but I suppose maybe sometimes it takes people an hour to get through registration (it only took me ten minutes), so he tells all his patients to show up at 7. I'm glad I was smart enough to arrange a book on tape for myself, because at 7:10 with no nourishment or coffee my eyes were not yet ready for reading.

He showed up, looked at my blood test results and the dispatch from my family physician. I had to take them downstairs to get my health history. What's that, you say? I don't know. But I got so lost on the way, it was just unbelievable. First I was on the wrong floor, then I was in the wrong wing, then I just walked right past it.

Got that, went back up to the 8th floor, found out I was scheduled for 11 o'clock (nobody told me this, but I noticed it on the secretary's clipboard), go into the room where three other guys are, which means I get the bed by the sink. I get changed and then taken to the inspection room, where a young women looks me over; I guess it was an intern doing this for practice. She asked me about anesthesia, asked me if I want local or general, but I hadn't discussed this with my surgeon, so she went to get him. He recommended general, which sounded great to me, since my only anesthesia ever has been getting my wisdom teeth out, which was more fun than practically any chemical experience I can recall. My father recounts it thus: on the way home, I only took break in laughing hysterically to spit blood in a McDonald's cup. He wishes he'd brought along a camcorder.

Then, back in the room, came the anesthesiologist. She called up each of us individual to sign off, and I took the longest because I read things before I sign them. Besides that, though, I also asked her questions. I told her that just yesterday a colleague told me general anesthesia takes five years off your life, is that true? She told me it was an urban legend, but that got my roomies started asking questions too. Then the anesthesiologist got frustrated and answered very tersely memory and coordination are weak for a few days and that's it.

Half way through signing I stopped to ask about whether the choice of local or general anesthesia would affect my release--as I had told my surgeon, I was determined to leave today. I live literally five minutes away and could return if there was any bleeding. The anesthesia made no difference, and I was in for the jollies, so I signed up for general.

After a few hours of Harry Potter they came to get me. I called the wife and told her I'd be done in about an hour, and to bring the camcorder! As I went in things began to get surreal: taking off my crocs and putting on a hairnet, sticking my right arm into my pants so that it wouldn't fall off the stretcher once I go under...and then I woke up.

No jollies. Well, I suppose I felt jolly for about 15 seconds while I was still under the impression that I ought to be jolly. Then I realized that whatever they gave me wasn't nearly as jolly as Valium and nitrous oxide. I was asked something. I think they asked me if I'm light-headed, and I said sort of. I crawled back onto the stretcher and they rolled me back to my room. On the way I saw my special lady and baby waiting for me, and that was jolly indeed, but probably not worth video taping.

My women had to leave soon because of parking. No free parking at the hospital. I went back to Harry Potter until 3:45--that's when the workday ends on Fridays in education, so I was getting very antsy. My roommates' surgeons had come in to see them almost as soon as they'd been rolled in, and I'd been waiting more than two hours. I needed to know if there were any complications before the doc left so I'd know if I could leave.

I went to look around the inspection room, then I went down to his office and his door was ajar. I knocked and went it. "How are you, what's up," he said. I was still groggy and didn't know what to say. "Uh," I began. Then I added, "I thought you were gonna come to me." Well put.

He told me he'd come see me in a few minutes, and he did. First he told my other roommate that his surgery went perfectly. Then he came over and told me mine also went "fine" but that my pus filled tonsils sure looked like shit. Well he didn't say shit, but he said they did not look nice. They must never look nice or else why would you cut them out? Therefore, if mine were that much worse than usual, I conclude he must of been thinking they look like shit.

I told him I still wanted to go home, and he said I could but he doesn't recommend it. There could still be bleeding and...what was the other thing? I don't remember. This was about 4:26 p.m.; as soon as he left I wrote my special lady an sms: "I'll get a shot of pain killers around 7-8 o'clock, then home!"

Next sms at 6:05 p.m.: "I don't know if I should come come tonight. My throat hurts too much to drink, so I need the IV for now...I'll let you know."

By 6:30 I'd decided I couldn't go home. I was thinking about how crazy it would be to go home when I can't get any fluids in me. This is after seriously considering giving myself an IV drip at home. Sms: "Copy as many chapters of harry potter as you can onto your mp3 player to bring me. You can come whenever you want, bring some games and ice cream!"

Nobody came to visit because the baby's molars are coming in. I still had several harry potter chapters left, but they wouldn't last through the night, and I didn't know how much sleep I would be able to get.

Now it's time to explain why I didn't bring more audio book. I thought as I was copying it onto the mp3 player, If I come out of this surgery as high as I was after getting my wisdom teeth out, I should definitely have some good tunes available. So I left myself Creedence Clearwater Revival...and Movie Soundtracks by Tetukas 2008...and Sublime...and The Very Best of Queen...how silly could I possibly feel? Well whatever that maximum is, that's how I felt.

Estimating that it might be more comfortable to read now than when the lights are out, I switched to the Lord of the Rings. I finished up the battle at Helm's Deep and decided to go to sleep 7:33. I was in the middle of a chapter, but I was feeling okay after the pain killer shot in the ass cheek and decided to fall asleep while I can. It worked. The last sms I wrote before going to sleep was "Phone's dying. Pick me up with cards at 8. Love to A." That's because the last message I got included a self portrait of my daughter all sad because I'm in the hospital.

I woke up to take a whiz around four. I'd woken up at least twice before that because I'd caught my catheter on something while moving my arm. I listened to half a chapter of audio book before ralizing I could still fall asleep again. Hooray!

I woke up and didn't know what time it was, because my phone was dead. There were no clocks around. It was dark though, so I figured 6-7. Audio books.

When it started to get brighter outside I began to worry. I didn't know what the schedule for the IV drip, pain killers, and check up was for the morning. I'd written 8 o'clock purely from optimism, and now it was too late to write again to delay. I went out to the hallway and could find neither clock nor sister...I mean nurse. In Lithuanian nurses are called sisters.

The nurses' computer was left unattended. I move the mouse and am not at the log in screen. Nope, I'm right at the desktop! It's 7:45. I press on the e icon excitedly, but then dismay as the hospital intranet logo pops up, but then rejoice as i type a y and yahoo.com pops up all by itself! I check email and face, and wrote this in a comment: "...i'm in the hospital illegally joinking internet acces through a secretary's computer."

I get up from the computer rather quickly, because I don't want to get in trouble with the nurse. I still want her to take care of me as soon as possible. Soon she shows up and we have a stupid conversation:

She: Hi.
I: Hi.
She: What can I do for you?
I: I was wondering when am I going to get this IV drip?
She: Let me check your file to see if you're supposed to get another one.
I: IF??? What do you mean IF? Why would they have left the catheter in last night if I wasn't supposed to get another one?
She: Okay, so you are.
I: When?
She: We'll let you know.
I: Let's do it now.
She: Oh, so now you're going to determine your course of treatment?
I: Why not? My family's coming to pick me up soon and I don't want to make my kids wait longer than necessary.
She: *sign* Okay, I'll be in shortly.
I: Thank you!

She did come in shortly, hook up the IV, and give me another shot in the ass cheek. My audio book was done, and I was reading my book again. A nurse had brought breakfast, but I didn't feel like eating anything, even though I hadn't eaten for 36 hours, which is the longest fast I can remember ever having. I did taste the cream of wheat. It tasted like crap. The compote was good.

The family showed up around 8:45. The IV had barely dripped, and we fiddled with it to hurry it up. It sped up a little, but it still looked like forever. I told the nurse it had gone much faster the night before and asked her to speed it up, but she said a 2nd day catheter isn't supposed to drip as fast, it's dangerous.

The kids weren't being great sports about waiting, and by now the pain killers had kicked in enough that I could hydrate myself. So, when the nurse left my special lady went to tell whatever doctor was on call that I was leaving, and I removed the IV tube myself; luckily I quickly figured out how to stop the dripping (otherwise the whole bag would have dripped out in seconds). I got changed and went to find somebody to remove the catheter. When the nurse saw me she rolled her eyes and assigned an intern to remove it, apparently she wanted nothing more to do with me.

I've been home for just over 24 hours. It hurts worse than yesterday, but the surgeon told me it would be so. I'm drinking Nimisil and Ibuprofen every 6-8 hours. It's hurts bad enough, but it's not as bad as tonsillitis--when the medicine is working well I can eat, not comfortably, but I can do it. The one thing I really don't understand is why they didn't prescribe me better pain killers. I assume it's a stupid policy to stem corruption that exists because liberals give drug dealers too much leeway.

So ended my only operation in Lithuania. Let's hope it's my last.

A Rip in the Seat of Symbolism's Pants

Bear with me as I get to the point.

Actually, getting to the point may be more entertaining than the point itself. Eye of the beholder.

My day yesterday. I have to make some stops on the way to work. I go to the water company to pick up a contract. I go to the bank to pick up a new ATM card. On the way out of the bank I plop down in the car and hear a sort of crunch, and I think to myself, "I hope my wife didn't hear me crack the passenger seat!"

The next stop is the first of two work stops, first at one of the faculties, then on to my office. As I get out of the car the wife tells me to stop and turn around. What's the matter, stain on my ass? No. Remember the crack I heard? It wasn't a crack, but a ten inch rip in my pants' crotch. Luckily my sport coat was long enough to hide it for the first stop, but I couldn't spend the rest of the day like this!

Luckily we found a seamstress within a block, and I got it sewed up immediately. The price? Oh, just a symbolic few lits...no we've gotten to the point: I don't think people here understand symbolism.

If I tell you to pay me symbolically, that means you give me a button, or just shake my hand...you don't give me a few coins. That's not symbolic, it's just not a lot of money.

I've heard the word used countless times to describe a drink. When a drink is offered and declined in this country, the offerer will insist that the decliner have just one small drink, symbolically. As the decliner, in that case, I will put the glass to my lips and pretend to drink, then put it down...shocking all present! They'll insist I didn't drink, and I'll say, "Of course not: if I had it wouldn't have been symbolic, it'd have been real!"

As you may have guessed, that doesn't quite fly. But I did get a giant rip in my pants sewed up in three minutes for three lits, and that's a good deal.

Thoughts on September 1st

September 1st is a big deal in Lithuania, students bring flowers to teachers and principals and everybody dresses up for the first day of school (I'm wearing French cuffs, la-dee-dah). Here's some things I noticed:

• Mothers go bananas making sure their kids look perfect.
• Teenage boys look stupid, because either nobody told them their shirt collar belongs inside their sport coat, or they were too stupid to believe that the 70s are over.
• Way more students showed up for this than will ever show up for class.
• So many, in fact, that a good chunk had to stand outside (for some reason 400 seats were arranged for 800 people in a hall that can only seat 400 but could stand 1,000).
• The girl standing next to me had a femullet.
• An increasing number of freshman have repugnant face piercings.
• What's most interesting of all is that year after year we listen to the student anthem, Gaudeamus: I do indeed mean *listen* and not sing, because even when each student is given a piece of paper with the words on it, nobody sings; it's worse than everybody murmuring the hymns in church. Why do we do it? It's tradition they tell me. The tradition of showing that we can't learn our anthem? What do I know they say.

Resolution: I'm gonna learn the words to Gaudeamus and sing it out loud next year at the ceremony. I will bet you that everybody will look at me as if I'm the weirdo for standing out rather than the only one doing as he should.