Noble Sushi

Our new favorite restaurant.

No can haz cardio anymoar

The last workout session! So long, Neal, and thanks for being a great inspiration.

The Iceman Cameth

One of the things that keeps it interesting in New England is the weather. An ice storm just knocked out our power for the whole morning.

Save the clock tower!

Y O G

What to do with leftover ice sculptures...

More weird stuff that women do

A diaper cake for a baby shower? Who the hell thinks up this stuff, anyway?

This represents about $150 worth of diapers and other related baby stuff that women coo over. Oh, and about 2 hours worth of design and construction work.

Paisley never goes out of style

Chicken Pie 2007

And neither does good, stick-to-your ribs comfort food.

Once again, the first Saturday in November finds Linda and I elbow deep in food as the First Congregational Church has their annual Chicken Pie Scholarship Dinner.

I wrote about this last year, and it was pretty much the same thing. A lot of work in preparation and cleanup. We served about 160 dinners and raised about $1,200 for the church scholarship fund.

Not as many leftovers this year, which is just as well, considering we've both done so well about losing weight. And just like last year, I received a number of compliments on my apron. In fact, so many people commented that I began to wonder if they were being facetious.

Naw. Not after I took such pains to coordinate the apron with the rest of my outfit, right?

Out of my gourd

Could there be any more quintessential cultural experience of a New England autumn than leaf peeping? That's the colloquialism for taking a long, slow drive on back roads to look at the changing scenery. It's long and slow because you're behind a couple of dozen lost New Yorkers who managed to find their way out of the city and can't get back until they see a sign for a parkway.

The answer, of course, is to get together with a bunch of friends, bring some hot casseroles and cold beer, and give the little kids some sharp, serrated tools and some permanent markers, and have a pumpkin carving party. Some family friends have one every year, and each year it seems that there are more and more little children. I'm pretty sure that most of them manage not to get lost in the woods or fall into the deep part of the stream.

Pumpkin Party 2007

Here's a few shots from this year's party. Some of the adults revert to childhood and vie to carve the most grotesque visages that can be imagined. Despite the abundant amount of alcohol, injuries are rare.

They also fire up the Farm-All tractor and a couple of dozen people at a time will pile into the hay wagon for a three hour tour twenty minute trip around the farm. You'd think that the hay bales are merely for ambiance, but really they're an excellent shock absorber for when that wagon is bouncing around the tractor ruts and over rocks. This is a real New England farm, and not one of those tourist attractions; and be sure to watch your boots after walking through the horse fields.

Naturally, a good time was had by all, and we'll remember this for the next couple of months, until we have the next New England tradition: the wreath-making party.

Anniversary thoughts

I knew that I would be expected to say a few words at the anniversary party. I spent some time thinking about what to say; should I be funny? Pithy? Should I look for quotes from famous people like Bacall and Bogart? Read a poem? Present a Powerpoint slide show?

While I was thinking about it, I happened to be talking to a young man who did some landscaping and handyman work around their house. We were chatting and out of the blue he mentioned "Your mom and dad must really be in love... I hope that I'm that lucky when I'm their age." He went on to describe how one day he was working in the yard and my mother drove in from shopping. She carried a few items from the local flea market, remarking that she knew my father would appreciate them. Anyone who know my father knows that he practically lives at the flea market in Woodbury; and in fact, has been known to do his Christmas and birthday shopping from there.

I thought about this for a while and it occurred to me that perhaps the secret to a long marriage is not big houses, vacations, cars, or New York shopping sprees; rather, it's about those little things that we do every day to show our partners how much we appreciate them. Sprinkling a little cinnamon in their coffee, picking up dinner on the way home, tossing in a load of laundry or doing the dishes, or doing any other of those dozens of little things that help to lubricate a relationship.

Anyone can buy a dozen roses on Valentine's Day or take you out to a fancy restaurant for a birthday dinner. But once a year expressions aren't enough to sustain; it takes a more serious commitment to get up twenty minutes before your partner six or seven days a week to make coffee or turn up the thermostat so the bathroom is warm when they head for the shower, or pick up a package of their favorite items (be it food, tools, or underwear) when you notice that something needs replacing.

Maybe the secret to any good relationship isn't about the big things at all, but about the little, everyday things, because that's where most of us live - not in the dozen or so holidays, but in the other 350-odd days, year in and year out.

Anniversary Aftermath

The remaining surviving members of the Accuosti anniversary reunion party attacking an unsuspecting herd of Belgian waffles at brunch the next morning. The traditional method of silently surrounding the waffles and then ritually drenching them in fruit syrup and whipped cream has taken many Belgian waffles out of the gene pool over the years.

Nature - red in tooth and claw. No, it's not pretty, but life must go on.

50th Anniversary

This is the historic Longwood Country Inn at the edge of scenic Woodbury, Connecticut. Quite literally on the edge, in fact, as fifty feet to the left of this picture on Rte 67 is the border of Southbury.

We're having a family reunion of sorts as my parents celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary. Clicking the picture will take you to the Picasa online photo album.

We can't recommend the Longwood Inn highly enough. The staff was fantastic to work with, and they were very accommodating, considering all of the last minutes changes we made. The food was excellent, both at dinner and at brunch the next day. Woodbury is full of old, historic buildings; the Longwood Inn is on Rte 67, and is only a few miles from the center of Woodbury - the antiques capital of Connecticut. The leaves were just starting to fall, so the out of state guests managed to get a little taste of New England scenery.

It was nice to see so many of the relatives that we normally only see at weddings and funerals. My parents had a great time, of course - probably because pretty much all they had to do was show up. We're going to have a difficult time topping this at their next 50th anniversary.

Family Reunion

3 generations of the Accuosti family gather for breakfast at the crack of, er, nine. Most of us got here last night, and some more family will be coming in later on today before the party starts at 6:00 pm here at the Longwood Inn. Signs posted on the doors informed us that breakfast would be served between the un-Godly hours of 8:00 and 9:15 am. About 9:10 most of the family started sauntering downstairs.

This one goes to eleven!

Three months ago when I started at Horizon's Gym I could barely do situps on a flat surface.

Each week, we'd move it up a bit or add some weight.

At my last session, the crunch board had been moved up for someone who was doing some serious work. I asked to leave it there. Why? 'cos it was set to "11," of course.

It hurt, but I managed.

Okay, doing situps at a steep angle isn't a skill one needs to use frequently, but it's still impressive.

Going out in a blaze of glory

Saturday morning, September 22.

10 am.

I get on the treadmill and suddenly it all comes together for me. I just start running and don't stop.

2.04 miles in 20 minutes. That's 6.12 mph.

I made it to the Gold board!

I can has cardio, indeed!

Cardio Cardio Cardio

I really thought that I was going to hit the 2.0 mile mark today. But I did make sure to warm up by jogging for several minutes beforehand on the treadmill and stretching a bit. I also tried to keep the intervals closer together; instead of jumping from 5.0 to 5.5, I just upped it .3 or so at a time, and pushed a bit every 30 seconds instead of waiting for the 1 minute mark.

So close

I don't know how runners do this all the time. 20 minutes and I still didn't break the 2 mile mark.

I can has cardio?

Small gains, but I'll take anything at this point. Notice that Linda made 1.41 - she just started the treadmill last week.

Cheeseburger, Cheeseburger, Cheeseburger

A portion of the 600 hamburgers and hot dogs we grill up for the Rally Day picnic. My t-shirt spells PETA: People for the Eating of Tasty Animals.

Cardio - gaining on it

Small gains, but now I'm totally determined to hit 2.0 by the end of September. If my knees, joints, and lungs don't gang up on me.

Colorado Springs School Bans Tag on Playground,

From Fox News this morning.

Submitted here without comment, mainly because I can't post a video of my head shaking in disgust.

=============

Colorado Springs School Bans Tag on Playground, Citing Conflicts

Thursday, August 30, 2007

COLORADO SPRINGS, Colo. — An elementary school has banned tag on its playground after some children complained they were harassed or chased against their will.

"It causes a lot of conflict on the playground," said Cindy Fesgen, assistant principal of the Discovery Canyon Campus school.

Running games are still allowed as long as students don't chase each other, she said.

Fesgen said two parents complained to her about the ban but most parents and children didn't object.

In 2005, two elementary schools in the nearby Falcon School District did away with tag and similar games in favor of alternatives with less physical contact. School officials said the move encouraged more students to play games and helped reduce playground squabbles.

I'm tellin' ya, it's the shoes

Okay, it's not a huge breakout move, but I'll take it.

Ruby Sneakers

It's got to be the new Mizuno Wave Riders. After 2 weeks of painful running with no gains in speed or distance, I flew past the old record.

"Tomer" Simpson

Yes, I did go to see The Simpson's Movie. Why do you ask?

More to the point, one of my friends turned me onto www.simpsonizeme.com, a marketing site with a Simpsons and Burger King (Home of the Whopper) tie-in. You upload a picture and the "simpsonizer" scans it for facial characteristics and creates a Simpsonized likeness. I suspect that instead of creating something, it matches your pic up to one of many templates, to which you can make small customized changes.

Accordingly, I decided to post some pictures of my family. Above is my lovely wife of 17 long, long, wonderful years...
And my daughter, who has just discovered the online world and is now glued to the PC more than her father.



And this scruffy dude would be my son, who complained that I hadn't done his pic when I first posted.

Still working

One of the only drawbridges left in Connecticut.

Mystic Seaport

This is a shot of the Charles W. Morgan Joseph Conrad, apparently masquerading as the Charles W. Morgan.

Mystic Aquarium

More vacation, this time on the opposite side of the state.

Slowly I turned

Kent Falls State Park
Somewhere in the Northwest Corner of Connecticut
Picked up the sprog and her friend from camp, where they'd been all week. It was raining like crazy earlier, but it cleared up enough to stop on Rt. 7 and have a picnic lunch.

A shot from halfway up the falls.

I just got home, and can see that sometimes the phone just ain't a camera.

Cardio Thursday

I totally blew away the 1.69 from the other day.

Problem is, I get more and more tired out after each session. When the hell do I start feeling better, feeling all that energy that they keep telling me that I'm supposed to having?

Cardio Saturday

This was from Saturday morning. Somehow, I always feel "lighter" on the weekend, and now that I'm on vacation, everything seems a little bit easier. Saturday marks the end of three straight weeks in the "Body for Life" program. Normally they want you to go for 12 weeks, but I've only got the 8 weeks of July and August. I'm seriously considering, though, continuing this for another four, through the end of September.

Not sure how much faster I can go on that stupid treadmill, though.

'Twas grilling and the slithy toves...

From Movable Jewel comes part of the secret to Bro. Don's "Top Secret" ribs:

"It starts the day before with selecting the best meat I can find."

From Ashida Kim's "Zen Koans:"

31. Everything Is Best

When Banzan was walking through a market he overheard a conversation between a butcher and his customer.

"Give me the best piece of meat you have," said the customer.

"Everything in my shop is the best," replied the butcher. "You cannot find here any piece of meat that is not the best."

At these words Banzan became enlightened.

It's interesting to hear a bunch of middle-aged guys talk cooking. Invariably, it involves grilling.

This is a picture of the birthday present I bought myself last year. All stainless - although you'd hardly know it after a solid year of use; right now it's pretty black inside. Black, however, is much better than how my twelve previous grills have ended up. I'm one of those guys who grills all year - summer, winter, monsoon season, dust storms, blizzards, plagues of locusts - and predictably I'd end up replacing the inner parts by the end of the year. Last year, I decided that I needed a more professional model.

I shopped for a month before deciding on this grill from Costco. It is very well made, and when compared to grills in a similar price range, the workmanship was superior to some of the better known brands. So I grabbed the shop pickup truck and went to Costco on a Friday afternoon. I wheeled a cart down to the outdoor department, and tried to drag one of the boxes onto the cart.

It wouldn't budge.

I figured that it was hung up on the skid, so I tried the next box.

It moved about two inches and stopped.

A guy behind me who had previously voiced some good-natured jealousy that I was buying the rather pricey piece of cookware, pitched in to help. A third guy saw us struggling, and joined the battle. We managed to drag the box onto the cart. Just as we got the box situated, I saw the shipping label. Remembering that there are 2.2 lbs. in a kilo, I did the math in my head.

"Holy c*w!" I exclaimed, "No wonder we couldn't drag it. The grill weighs 300 pounds!"

The two guys shook their head and wished me luck. At the checkout, I asked for help getting it on the truck, and after securing it in the bed, I drove home.

That's where the fun began. The pickup has big tires and high springs. There was no way that I was going to lift it off the bed. I managed to drop the tailgate, and used a piece of plywood as a ramp and slid it to the ground. My wife was smart enough to come out just as I finished.

"How the hell are you going to get that up to the deck?" she asked.

Good question. The deck was in the back of the house, up seven steps, then up another two.

"No problem," I assured her, "I'll open the carton and just bring the pieces up and assemble it on the deck."

I cut the metal straps and pried open the crate.

The grill was already assembled.

That's right; in an age in which one needs an engineering degree to put together bookshelves and magazine racks from Ikea, my new grill was almost completely put together. I actually had to dismantle it in order to get the weight low enough to manage it up the stairs. For a half hour I undid screws and bolts, and managed to drag the now-200 pound behemoth around the back of the house. My wife, ever resourceful, remembered that she needed to clean the kitchen. I, stuck on the bottom stair to the deck, balanced the grill with one hand and called the house phone from my cell phone.

"I'm stuck," I told her, "I need your help." She reminded me that moving heavy objects was not in the wedding vows - her way of hinting that I was going to owe her a vacation, or at least a weekend painting the closets. She came out to the deck and while I held the back end of the crate, she lifted the front up one stair at a time. At the top of the first deck, she declared her part of the process finished, and retreated to the safety of the kitchen. Somehow I managed to get the crate up two more stairs and across the deck.

By that time it was 6:30 pm, and she poked her head out to ask if I could fire it up to cook some burgers for dinner. I reminded her that one third of the grill was still in the garage; we sent out for pizza and ate outside. That is, she and our daughter ate while watching the floor show called "Daddy trying to reassemble the grill before it's too dark to see."

By 9:00 pm, the grill was finally reassembled, the gas hooked up (I have not one, not two, but three tanks of propane - as I wrote, I do a lot of grilling), and the bugs were biting. I fired up the grill and admired the ceramic searing burner and the smooth, shiny stainless grill. I rummaged through the freezer and found a few frozen hot dogs; moments later they were sizzling... well, mainly that was the sound of the ice melting.

That's when I discovered that "stainless" does not mean "immune to discoloration."

And if anyone knows how to clean a stainless steel grill, I'd appreciate any advice - as I mentioned earlier, it's beginning to look like it came out of an old diner. But that's okay - after well over a year of near-continuous use, nothing has burned out, worn out or broken off.

I wish I could say as much about the griller as I can about the grill.

Tao of Masonry | Freemasonry | Masonry

Some headlines write themselves

How could I not mention the headline from this afternoon's Hartford Business Journal?

"Bathroom causes evacuation"

I'm sure that there is a causal relationship, but still...


Actually, the article refers to a smoke alarm in the Hartford State House being triggered and causing employees to leave the building.

Still, the 12 year old in me is having a giggle fit.

Death by Blog Meme

Getting tagged with a blog meme is a love/hate thing. On one hand, since most of them are left-over teenager "Truth or Dare" games, they're a PITA. On the other hand, if nobody ever tags you, then you start to feel left out. Proof that some of us never seem to leave junior high school.

Anyway, Chris Garlington over at my new blog discovery (and not un-ironically named) "Death by Children" got sucked into agreed to play along when he was tagged by themolk and decided to spread the misery over here. This is an interesting meme because instead of asking for your favorite ice cream flavor or to pick random embarrassing fact about yourself, this meme has one pick five posts that you feel identifies, or gets to the core of your blogging. For me, this is interesting because this blog barely even has five posts; I started this as an offshoot of my Masonic blog, The Tao of Masonry, when I started getting the itch to write about things that are a bit off the Masonic path. With that in mind, I'm going to list posts from both blogs.

In no particular order:

Marriage, Memorial Day, and the Kobayashi-Maru
For anyone who's ever gone shopping without a safety net.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation - Part 2
I'm not crazy about flying. But I certainly prefer flying to falling out of the sky.

Auntie Em! Anti-M!
In which I finally admit to the secret world-wide Masonic konspiracy." (One of my favorite posts)

Guarding the West Gate
Was Freemasonry really better in the "old days"?

Master of My Domain
What I did wrong - and how it was okay in the end - as Master of my Masonic Lodge.

I'm not sure if these are my best writings, but I think that they are all good examples of what I'm trying to do here.

No blog meme is complete without the tagging, of course, so I'm picking on:
Burning Taper, Pagan Temple, John Ratcliff, Chris, and Christian Ratliff

20 minutes of cardio is only how far?

Three times a week I ask myself this question:

"What? I've been running my butt off for the last twenty minutes, and I've only gone a mile and a half?"

Ok, not record breaking, but pretty good for a beginner.

I've been doing this diet and resistance training for the last two weeks, and ever other day is a cardio workout. 20 minutes of running on a treadmill, first slow, then more quickly, then fast, then a slowdown, and the cycle repeats.

It's kind of like being at work.

A few months ago I had to do a "stress test" at the hospital, and I could barely run for ten minutes. Of course, I was carrying around 20 extra pounds, and the stress test was designed to work the hell out of you. As it happened, I was pegged at "normal" on that test. I think I'd do better now.

Anyway, I've got six weeks to go. Don't even ask me about the weight and resistance part. The program is designed to push you until your muscles give out. I do this right after work every day, and usually I consider myself lucky if I can drive home.

Are we there yet?

Okay, the presidential elections are still well over a year away, and already I'm sick of the campaigning.

I'm not, however, sick of the parodies. Let the send-ups begin!

I Can Haz Sidecar?

For some reason known only to the gods of teh int3rw3bz, one of the most consistently popular blogs on Wordpress is a place where people send in terminally cute pictures of cats (they allow token other animals, but it's mainly a feline blog) that have been "capped" - tagged with sickeningly cutesy captions. The blog has spawned several parodies, and I can envision a time in the not-too-distant future when the phrase "I can has ___ ?" will be as ubiquitous as "All your ____ are belong to us."

No, I'm not going to give you the name; I have no wish to be linked to it. Go to Wordpress and find it yourself.

So it's probably no surprise that when my Harley-riding, camera-wielding sister sent this out, it was the first thing that popped into my head.



The dog's name, by the way, is Polly.

Go ahead. Ask me.

*sighs*

Because she had a parrot named Rover, of course.

---

Edit:
Just to show that my sister really is not a crazy cat dog lady, here's the link to her own websites:

Shoot Photography
The World in Black & White

How I spent my summer vacation - Part 2

I know - where's Part 1, right? Briefly, I flew down to the Orlando area where my wife and her family were having a reunion of sorts. I hung around trying to relax amidst the various family and friends who stopped in, left, came back, stayed for dinner, slept over, left, and returned with others.

People from large families know what I'm talking about. However, I'm from a small family, so this was foreign to me.

It was nice to see nieces and nephews, and the weather was pleasant, and I managed not to get sunburned. Right away that puts it in the Plus column.

But I'm not writing about the family vacation, I'm writing about how I ended it. Specifically, the part of it in which I spent circling a storm over White Plains, NY. on my way home.


The rest of my family was staying the rest of the week, but I came back for work. Early Wednesday afternoon I headed out to Orlando airport, dropped off a borrowed car, and headed into Terminal A to find the AirTran desk. My first inkling of trouble came when I discovered that AirTran was no longer in the A terminal; that morning they had officially moved their operations to the B side. So, a long healthy walk later, I got to wait in line for the privilege of getting half undressed in public in order to pass through the security gates. Amazingly, I managed not to set off any alarms; I usually forget an item - cell phone, Palm, souvenir bottle opener, etc. Having been deemed acceptable steerage, I got dressed, packed my things into my backpack, and wandered down the concourse looking for Gate 92 and my flight. I was still almost two hours early, a "personal best" for me.

My second inkling of trouble came when I couldn't find Flight 673 listed anywhere. I waited in line by one of the AirTran counters, and when my turn came I asked about the flight. "Sir, 673 has been delayed because of weather." You're kidding, right? It's a beautiful day out there. "No sir, the weather is in New York. They're having some pretty bad thunderstorms."

Dang.

I bought a couple of computer magazines, and parked myself in a chair near the gate. Several hours later, they herded us onto the Boeing 717, and we took off around 6:00 pm. We made good time up to New York, and sitting on the right (starboard) side of the jet, I could see the outline of the Atlantic coast. After an hour or so, one of the babies a few rows behind me woke up and started screaming. That triggered a second baby, and the two of them dueled with their lungs for the next forty five minutes. What is it about baby screams that is so irritating? Anyway, I tried to close my eyes and rest for a bit, in spite of the noise. I managed to doze off for a few minutes, when I was woken by the annoying sunlight coming in the window.

Sunlight? Wait - I was on the wrong side of the plane to see the sun. Either that or we were flying south...

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are currently in a holding pattern while we await clearance to land. The weather is pretty bad down there right now, and they're not allowing any landings. Don't worry, we've got plenty of fuel to wait this out."

So, it should come as no surprise to discover that an hour later, we were still circling. The captain came back on the intercom and explained that we still did not have clearance to land, so we were going to head back to a better terminal and figure out what to do. Forty five minutes later we were landing in Baltimore Washington airport, where we sat on the tarmac for close to an hour so AirTran could figure out what to do with us. Eventually they found a gate and a while later we were allowed to leave the plane. The terminal was empty, so we sprawled out on the chairs, and some people went hunting for vending machines. An hour later, the plane was refueled and we were herded back onto the plane...

... where we waited for yet another hour before being allowed to take off.

At some point the flight attendants thought to pass out snacks because most of the passengers were now long past dinner. They managed to rustle up 1/2 ounce bags of pretzels and some cinnamon flavored graham cookies. Served with either bottled water or soda, it was just enough to make the passengers hungry for an actual meal. The captain tried to call for a catering truck, but they had all gone for the night.

Now, I know that most of you are feeling pretty annoyed, if not downright aggravated just reading this. Few things can instill feelings of annoyance like air travel, mainly because the typical passenger has so little control over his environment. You can't simply open the door and walk out, and a raging argument will now get you arrested by the TSA. At some point in the evening, I simply resigned my self to the idea that this was going to be a long night, and tried to relax. I diverted myself by reading the magazines I had picked up before the flight, playing with my phone, and reading on my Palm. I transcended the aggravation.


We made it to New York - again - without incident, where we circled the little airport in White Plains until about 3:00 am. Unfortunately, the ground crew had all gone home, so we waited - again - for another 45 minutes while the airport could find people who knew how to work the gate equipment. At nearly four in the morning we were released from bondage allowed to deplane and wander across the terminal to be united with our luggage.

If anyone is expecting some story about how our luggage ended up in San Francisco, or needing to be quarantined for a week, I'm sorry to disappoint you. My wheeled bag came around and I wrestled it off of the carousel and out the main doors, where the new commuters of the day were slowly beginning to filter in. I bid them a mental farewell, and lugged my 40 pound suitcase up several flights of stairs in the parking garage, and found my car in the same place that I'd left it five days earlier. I put the bag in the trunk, tossed the backpack on the passenger seat, and slid into the driver's side, where I put the key into the ignition and turned the switch. The engine turned over.

Once.

I sat there in stunned disbelief. The battery had just enough juice to power the dashboard. I waited a few minutes and tried again. And again.

Nothing.

After pulling an all-nighter, this was almost enough to drag me down from my state of transcendency. I'll admit that I was on the verge of getting pretty aggravated at that point. Somehow I managed to keep my cool, though, so I locked up the car and went back to the terminal. By now it was around 5:00am, and it was filling up with commuters. I managed to find a policeman, who explained that they did not have any emergency service and that I would have to call a tow truck. I told him that I had AAA, but he told me that AAA was not allowed in the parking garage, and that I would have to use the airport "approved" service. He made the call for me, and I went outside to wait.

And wait.

Having practiced waiting in a cramped airline seat, it was almost a pleasure to wait for a half hour on the sidewalk for the wrecker that eventually showed up. The driver - a young college student, I learned - explained that it was $70, cash preferred, and that he would not need to go into the garage as he had a portable battery booster. Ten minutes later my engine was running, and he cautioned me not to turn the engine off for the next half hour to give the battery a chance to charge. I determined that I had not left a door ajar or any lights running; we decided that the battery was simply old (five years, which is like 70 in human years) and should probably be replaced ASAP.

I thanked him, and began the hour and a half drive home to Connecticut. I was fully expecting to get a flat tire on the way home, but I made it back without further incident.