Tuesday, March 30, 2010

It's not black, it's not white, it's green!

Growing up on the Redneck Riviera during the 1950s and ‘60s I had very little contact with people of color. An exception was the Indian Chief (well, he said he was a chief) who owned the little mini-mart down the road. The only other person I came across was the Polynesian kid from Hawaii who transferred in to Jenks Junior High School. He created quite a stir because of his dark skin color but no one dared say anything racist to him. He was a really nice guy, but he also towered over every other kid in school and he outweighed most by fifty pounds…all solid muscle. The redneck bullies kept their opinions to themselves.

Panama City and the pure white beaches perked along in segregated serenity until the mid sixties. President Lyndon Johnson screwed up the tranquil beach community with the passage of the Civil Rights Act on July 2, 1964. Not long after the signing of the Act, the Selma marches began and the angst began building all up and down the Miracle Strip. “How on Earth can we deal with the possibility of black feet wiggling their black toes in our lily-white, powdered sugar sands,” was the question on the lips of many a person’s mind.

A meeting was called. The participants included most of the beach community from Long Beach all the way to Sunnyside. “Nigger” was tossed about quite a bit, but no one seemed to have a clue as to how to deal with the anticipated invasion. Someone turned to Mr. Fernandez, who had been sitting back and just taking this all in, “Carl, what the hell will you do if they try to get into the Little B’ham?” Mr. Fernandez replied, “I’ll slap them with a $25 cover charge.” “What if they pay it?” I will never forget the response, “Then I’ll toss out all the white trash.” That seemed to settle the matter and life went on.

Today there is the pitter patter of black feet plodding through the White House. My investments have recovered. With health care reform we may be able to afford to live out our lives in the United States. I believe there may be a lesson in here somewhere.  And, hopefully, life will go on.

Postscript:  Sadly the Little B'ham as well as some other beach icons such as Altman's Drive-in are now but distant memories.

Monday, March 29, 2010

If you are what you eat...

then I want to be fat. No, I don't mean obese. Hell, I have worked my ass (and other body parts) off for a year to shed some twenty-five pounds. I am talking about eating great big globs of glorious, taste enhancing fat.

This country has become so obsessed with weight and cholesterol that the food producers have bred all the taste out of our foods, especially meat products. Not only do our chicken, pork and beef products have no taste, they are also tougher than shoe leather and we are paying a hefty premium for the privilege of tasting nothing.

Did you know that pork generally should be cooked about medium rare? Did you know that in Japan raw chicken sushi is considered a delicacy? Did you know that in many cultures other than ours they don't raise their pigs and chickens in shit. I am not being crude here, I am serious. Their animals don't live in their own filth. Did you know that fat is what gives cows, chickens, and pigs taste and tenderness? Did you know that most often a prime rib roast in this country is at best a choice roast?

So, to America I say, "Get off of your fat asses and exercise to lose weight. Then demand that our country's food producers put fat and taste back into our foods."

If you would like to read more about fat, get this book:

Here are a few comments pulled directly from Amazon:

"I am so tired of fat free everything these days in the grocery store, so it was a real pleasure to read about fat...glorious fat. Maybe my cholesterol is getting jacked to Jesus, but my food has flavor now that I am cooking with fat. I tried McLagan's roasted chicken recipe and it was the best chicken ever...flavorful, juicy...I swoon at the memory. I look forward to trying more of the recipes from the book as soon as I can locate sources for well marbled meats, fatty fowl, and pork bellies. My in-laws are in their eighties and have cooked with lard all their lives. They are happy, healthy, thin, and the food just tastes good. I may croak a few weeks earlier than expected, but I will go out with happy taste buds. I really enjoyed reading about fat."

"I love this book and it could be my cookbook of the year. I have a library and I have been cooking long enough that I do not really need a cookbook unless it is very good. I bought the book primarily for reading about fats and why they could be good for you. However, I have made several recipes including the above mentioned roast chicken, which was fabulous. I slow baked a lamb shoulder by her method of slow cooking. And I saved the fat to make some lamb fritters, (not of this book) frying them in the left over fat. I have baked sweet potatoes in lard inspired by the book. I have rendered lard for myself and my girls. It has all been quite fun. And now that I am having so much fun and the food is so good, I really am not sure I care about the health issues.  Here is one thing I will say, since I have cooked out of this book this week, I am not hungry or craving food."

"You've just gotta love a book that has a big fatty slab of meat on it! And while fat has gotten an unfair bad rap over the past few decades from the low-fat diet apologists, the fact is that fat consumption is an important part of living as healthy a lifestyle as you can. This is something Jennifer McLagan wanted to convey with her book to give people a greater "appreciation" for what is arguably the most flavorful ingredient you could put into a recipe (nope, not salt, not sugar, and not spices of any kind can compete with good old-fashioned FAT!).  From butter to meat fats, McLagan gives you quite a history lesson on the subject of fat (and you can't miss the section on where the ghastly margarine came from!) to whet your appetite for some truly incredible fat-based dishes to make. Not all of them are low in carbohydrates, but they can easily be adapted to just about any diet. Except for a low-fat one. Sorry low-fatties!"

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Seen on South Tampa bumper stickers:

While there are people who would find those bumper stickers to be offensive, it can not be denied that these two bozos have the right under the 1st Amendment to display their sentiments. What I find ironic is that both of these people are also displaying this sticker: 

Apparently they have forgotten the oath they took when they entered the Marine Corps:

“I, (NAME), do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.”

Lest anyone forget, President Obama is the Commander in Chief, and he was duly elected by the people of the United States. It should also be pointed out that this country is the people, and the “people” is the government.

These two former Marines might benefit from this reminder from the US Military History Companion*: “Treason — betraying the nation-state that the American military was created to defend — is among the most odious of crimes. Yet American history suggests how fine the line can be between patriot and traitor.”


• Nathaniel Weyl, Treason: The Story of Disloyalty and Betrayal in American History, 1950.

• Bradley Chapin, The American Law of Treason: Revolutionary and Early National Origins, 1964.

• James Willard Hurst, The Law of Treason in the United States: Collected Essays, 1971

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Are you counting calories?

Well, so are we.  But not as often as we should apparently.  During our five mile "hike" this morning the calorie count issue came up.  One of the points of discussion was the 8 ounce glass of freshly squeezed orange juice we enjoy each day.  "Too many calories," stated my unbelievably beautiful exercise partner.

Man, I hated to hear that since the orange tree in the front yard has a bumper crop of these orange globes this year.  Plus, I understand that the price of oranges is growing  higher than our tree.  Thankfully, beer was never mentioned.  Besides, I read somewhere that twelve ounces of beer was equal to a two mile run for your cardiovascular system and I am not receptive to alternative points of view. 

After we got home and cooled off a bit, I went online and pulled up Calorie Count

I scrolled through the web site and to my great pleasure discovered that an 8 ounce glass of orange juice has but 112 calories.  The orange tree stays and we can continue pick fruit until we strip the tree bare.  HooRah!

I recommend this web site not just for the calorie counter, but they also have recipes and a unit converter.

Did you know that an 8 ounce glass of water has zero calories and nothing else?  Yeah, me too.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

WMNF Tropical Heatwave 2010

We've bought our tickets and we are ready to party with WMNF at the May 15, 2010 Tropical Heatwave.

We are virgins. This is our first Heatwave, but one we couldn't miss. 
Why? Because Ruthie Foster will be there!  

This artist just blows me away. I get goose bumples when she hits those sustained high notes. Check out her Stages live CD by clicking on the Amazon icon.  There isn't a bad cut on the entire CD and this recording should give you an idea of what is in store at the Heatwave this year.

There will be 8 stages and 46 bands this year...a really impressive line up of talent.  For me, Foster is a must-see.

We'll see you there.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Veggies: Growin' my own in SOG City

There are gardening blogs, websites, and books galore that offer advice on gardening. Most have no clue what it’s like to garden in Central Florida or anywhere else in Florida for that matter, so let me just tell you that whatever worked for you up north won’t work here. If you miss gardening the way you did it in Ohio, as a for instance, then go back to Ohio. Besides, Florida folks just get pissy when they hear, “This is how we did it up north.”

My gardening philosophy is, “If it lives it lives, if it dies it dies.” If it dies, then next time try something else whether it’s a different plant or a different planting time. I tried timing the planting season for vegetables, but Florida weather is too capricious. I had planned on having fresh home grown tomatoes all winter. That didn’t work out too well for me this year because it got colder than the tit of a witch. The intense summer heat, humidity, and drought create special concerns. Those freakin’ nematodes wreak havoc on tomatoes, peppers, and okra to mention but a few nematode magnets. And, there are more bugs and worms than you can shoot with a shotgun that attack every damn thing I plant. I should probably mention that the Tampa police get really poopy when you let loose with a shotgun load in the city.  I have had to resort to other methods of pest control.

So, why do I even try to grow veggies? For one thing they are cheaper and of better quality than what I can get at Publix (the Gandy store just north of SOG City) and even the local fresh produce stand. The other reason is that I must have been a farmer in a previous life, albeit not a very good one which is why I became a famous 17th century highwayman robbing from the rich…and, aw hell, screw the poor. I was a Republican crook, but that is redundant and also another story.

Then what gardening advice can I offer? Yard long or asparagus beans poop pods all summer long and we cook them just like green beans. We had a shit-load* of them last summer. If your crops get hit by nematodes, then revert to container planting the next time.
Collards, mustard greens, chard, and loose leaf lettuce do fine in the ground during cooler weather and those plants even survived our freeze this year. And one last piece of advice; if it is too hot, cold, or rainy to garden, well then...let’s drink!

*An official unit of southern measurement.

If you do quaff a few beers while gardening you might want to jot down some notes on what you plant and where so as to avoid surprises later on.  I had a couple of mystery plants in the garden this year.  One is still a mystery, but the other has revealed itself as a fractal...specifically, a Romanesco cauliflower:

I am looking forward to chowing down on this unusual specimen.  I saw a recipe on line somewhere that said to cut about 4 ounces of smoked bacon into 1 inch pieces, fry them until they are crisp.  Pour off all but a tablespoon or so of the rendered fat, turn down the heat and simmer the chopped up Romanesco until softened a bit.  Then serve this mixture over your favorite pasta (mine is angel hair).  I haven't tried it yet, but it sounds as though it has promise.  We will see.

Today is a glorious day.  I think I shall soak up some sun and suds by the pool.  It beats working!

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

I am not black and I am not gay and I am not disabled...

but if I were I would have serious issues with aligning myself with or supporting a political party that has fostered such hate in my country, this country; the United States of America.  The Republicans and their constituency should be ashamed of themselves...very, very ashamed.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Just for fun!

GTE Florida, 1980
(click picture to enlarge)

The Pat Tillman Story

If there is anything positive that can be said about the second coldest winter in Tampa’s history it is affording me the opportunity to get caught up on my reading list. Besides, the mustard greens, collards, Swiss chard, and daikon radishes seem to be getting along just fine without me. The ingrates!

The Daily Show with Jon Stewart featured author Jon Krakauer a few weeks ago. Krakauer’s latest book, Where Men Win Glory, The Odyssey of Pat Tillman, sounded intriguing, so I picked up a copy.

That Tillman could walk away from a multi-million dollar pro-football career to enlist in the Army piqued my interest. I am not going to question his decision or analyze Tillman’s motives. We all have our reasons for doing what we do. I enlisted in the Army in ’68 to put as much space as possible between me and a nasty divorce. The specter of Viet Nam wasn’t nearly as scary as staying put. What glued me to the pages and repulsed me at the same time were the graphic depictions of fratricide, political and military incompetence, and cover-ups at all levels.

In Where Men Win Glory, Krakauer documents the true story of the Jessica Lynch debacle, the slaughter of U.S. Marines by a couple of U.S. Air Force A-10 gunships, and the events surrounding and leading up to Tillman getting his brains blown out (literally) by his fellow Rangers. What was even more gut-wrenching were the cover-ups orchestrated by the chain of command all the way up to the Bush White House.

If you are interested you can find this book on Amazon.com.
Click the link and it will take you to Where Men Win Glory.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

The Blue Angels Left Skid Marks on My Roof

I was tending to the backyard garden a little while ago when I heard and felt the roar and rumble of two jet engines. I looked up just as an F-18 Hornet came screaming overhead. The pilot banked hard left at what seemed like tree top level. I could see some detail in the cockpit and then the fighter blasted out of sight. If that doesn’t send chills of excitement up and down your spine along with waves of national pride then you are probably dead.

This is Navy Week in Tampa. The Blue Angels are in town for an air show this Saturday and Sunday at MacDill Air Force Base. We only live a couple of miles from the Dale Mabry gate and when the Angels or the Air Force Thunderbirds are in town we are in the flight path for parts of their shows. To experience the power of these war machines as they tear through the sky just above our roof ranks right up there with a really intense orgasm…well, almost.

I have needed something to give me a renewed sense of national pride. As a country we haven’t done anything lately that we should be proud of unless that religious scum from a Kansas church protesting at an American soldier’s funeral gives you the warm fuzzies. Or, maybe the hate filled ranting of the Becks and Limbaughs of the airwaves plucks your patriotic heart strings. The protesting Tea Baggers ridiculing a physically impaired “fellow American” was definitely something…that turned my stomach. The TV ads from the Republican Party of Florida slamming Alex Sink are understandable up to a point. That point comes when the ad says, “she is not one of us; she is one of them.” So who the hell do these Republican [insert your own descriptive here] think “them” is anyway? I thought we were all one; humans first and Americans second. I know that I am a human and an American so I must be one of “them” because I sure as hell am not “one of us.”

How about the dumbing-down of America? Should we be proud of the Texas School Board’s decision to not include people in the history books that no one has ever heard of and to re-write history to conform to some arbitrary religious interpretations? How about the Palins of this country who view stupidity as a virtue and intelligence as a liability? Does anyone remember Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia? It is scary to imagine this country in ten years or so when kids like those brainwashed Kansas children wearing the “God Hates Fags” T-shirts reach adulthood. If that is the new generation we have to look forward to then I think global warming or a failed economy will be the least of our worries.

With each passing day I have become more ashamed to call myself an American. The actions, or should say the inactions, of the U.S. Congress and the Florida legislature haven’t helped. The “I’ve got mine, so fuck you” attitude that is so pervasive in this country, not to mention the overall arrogance of thinking that we are better than anyone else in the world boggles my mind and sickens my stomach. The local owner of the dry cleaners I used to patronize who said the only way to take back “our” country was through armed rebellion made me glad I still have the means to defend myself against traitors like him. It scares the shit out of me to think how many more in this country feel as he does. Maybe like the lunatic fringe on the right, I need to visit my local firearms emporium more often. And, I have to ask, “Take the country back…to what?”

I really needed to see that naval aviator in the Blue Angels jet fly over today. It made me think that there still maybe hope for this country and maybe one day I will again be proud to say to the world, “I am an American.” For now, a four jet formation with a trailing fifth just flew past my office window. I need to go outside and cheer on the rest of the practice session. These aviators are Americans, and I am one of them.

Had Enough Winter?

Maybe a beach scene can warm us up.

Original digital photo modified with Micrografx Picture Publisher.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Travel: Riding the Rails to Winter Park

We love train travel...no security checks, large comfy reclining seats, and none of the hassles of air travel.  It just seemed like a dandy idea to take a train somewhere for Valentine's Day this year.  We were impressed with what we saw when we passed through Winter Park last year for a D.C. vacation, so we decided to spend a long weekend there.

Here are some pictures from that trip.

We stayed at the Park Plaza Hotel on Park Avenue.  Our balcony suite is just above the street light.

Our balcony would have been more enjoyable had the weather been warmer, but it was still pleasant to sit outside and watch the traffic on Park Avenue.
Winter Park has a must-do scenic boat tour that they call The Scenic Boat Tour.  This is an hour or so journey through canals linking a couple of fresh water lakes.  The lake banks are lined with mansions worth millions.  We weren't invited to go ashore.

Heritage Center had an interesting sculpture of a dog.  Or is it?     
Surprise!  You are looking at a propane molecule.

Samantha Brown, the Goddess of Travel, sipped wine at the Wine Room, and so did we. From small pours to large, we tried a variety of wines from the inexpensive to "holy cow" that one is $29 per ounce. One word of caution, while Sam raved over a high priced wine the one we tried was stale. I can only assume the bottle had been recently replaced for Sam's visit. After that it probably just hung around until we happened along. I don't imagine the pricier wines move that quickly, and after exposure to air they don't have a long shelf life.

Wine Room on Urbanspoon

The Wine Room also had some really good "small plates" to mellow out the wine buzz.

Suggested dining options:

Park Plaza Gardens:  good food with a lively bar scene.  The Sunday brunch with non-stop mimosas is not to be missed, and the restaurant can be accessed through the hotel. In the Cafe , try the Prime Rib French Dip. We did on our night of arrival, and it was excellent.
Park Plaza Gardens on Urbanspoon

Croissant Gourmet:  a great breakfast stop with French pastries and really good coffee. In addition to pastries you will find hot and cold sandwiches, salads, and specialty quiches.
Croissant Gourmet on Urbanspoon

310 Park South:  for lunch there were good soups, salads, sandwiches, plus a superb wine and beer selection.  The dinner menu looked good too, but we weren't in Winter Park long enough to eat everything everywhere.
310 Park South on Urbanspoon

Bosphorous Restaurant:  the lamb chops were very tasty and if we had been in Winter Park longer I would have dined there again.  I now know the proper pronunciation of raki and it got easier to pronounce after the second or third raki.  This establishment also has some pretty tasty Turkish wines.
Bosphorous Turkish Cuisine on Urbanspoon

There are many other restaurants that we would have tried if we had stayed in Winter Park for a few more days.

Winter Park is an excellent long-weekend destination and Amtrak got us there and back for $44 total.  The trip is about two hours each way.  The Tampa to Winter Park train departs Union Station around 5:45 in the evening and the return from Winter Park leaves around 9:55 in the morning.

Oh yeah, the club car is another perk.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

“The world was my oyster but I used the wrong fork - Oscar Wilde”

I have been craving oysters of late. Big, juicy, briny oysters on the half shell and, no I am not pregnant…I had a vasectomy years ago. It has been a really frustrating search around the Tampa area for an establishment that has those fat, juicy, salty hummers that I love so much. After searching from Tampa down to Punta Gorda it stresses me to report that my search for the perfect oyster on the half shell has been in vain. The oyster aficionado must make the long journey to at least highway 98 west of Perry, Florida to find anything worth consuming. Besides, the prices are better in the Panhandle anyway.

When DJ’s Oyster Bar on the corner of Gandy and Dale Mabry shut down, Tampa as well as SOG City (DJ’s was technically south of Gandy) lost a true treasure…a real honest to gosh oyster bar with people who knew what the hell they were doing. So, what have we been left with? I will share a few of my experiences:

Gallagher’s Steak House, Channelside Drive, Tampa: [Editor's note 1/12/11 - Gallagher's has closed] they advertise Apalachicola oysters. Maybe they are, but they have had all the flavor pasteurized out of them. If it wasn’t for bad taste they would have had no taste at all and the texture was that of a wet wad of cotton.

AquaKnox, at the Westin on Courtney Campbell, Tampa: these were cold water oysters. When served they were too chewed up, as in mangled, to be recognized…and, over two dollars a pop.

Hula Bay Club, on Tyson off West Shore, Tampa: they didn't know where their oysters came from, but they insist upon washing them off in some nasty looking water before plopping them back on the shell…even after being asked not to do that. They also tend to mangle.

Timpano Chop House, West Swann, Tampa: they advertise that they fly in their cold water oysters. Only a few were mangled, but all had been rinsed in fresh water before being served. This is a big no-no for me.

Fisherman’s Village in Punta Gorda: they advertise several restaurants with oyster bars. I was thrilled! We drove down and could not find a single restaurant with an oyster bar. We sat at a riverside table at one of these “Mrs. Paul’s Fish Sticks” kind of seafood restaurants and I ordered a dozen. First off, they were not freshly shucked…they had that glassy look that says they have been sitting out for a spell. Second, they were Ameri-Pures. That is all Fisherman’s Village serves I discovered. In fairness to Ameri-Pure, their web site says that their process does nothing to the oyster but kill bacteria. Well, Ameri-Pure, something or someone is killing the taste and texture. Holy crap, they were awful!

Mitchell's Fish Market, West Shore Plaza, Tampa:  they ususally have a nice selection of oysters, but the presentation can be inconsistant depending on who is shucking on a particular day.  Mitchell's is probably the best of the bunch, though.

So where does one go in the Tampa area for decent oysters you may query? I go to IC Sharks seafood market on the Pinellas side of the Gandy bridge, buy a couple dozen and bring them home and shuck‘em myself.

Unless someone can offer an alternative, for oysters done right I am thinking it’s time for a road trip to the Panhandle. I get almost orgasmic thinking of the oysters at Boss Oyster in Apalachicola. And, their jumbo heads-on shrimp? To die for!

As long as you made that drive to Apalach, why not go another 70 or so miles to Panama City Beach and stop in at Shuckums for another couple dozen oysters. Even the Fair Maiden Lydia, who is not a fan of oysters, ate a bunch the last time we stopped in. Tell Mack the proprietor that we sent you. He might give you a free beer. Of course, he also might be sending me the bill for that beer.

Gallagher's Steak House on Urbanspoon
Aquaknox on Urbanspoon
Mitchell's Fish Market on Urbanspoon

Sunday, March 14, 2010

Alice in Wonderland in Disney Digital 3D

The last time I went to a walk-in movie I think the industry had just introduced talkies, so you can see it has been awhile ago. I hated it! You could barely hear the talking on screen because of all the talking in the theater. I swore I would never go to another walk-in theater, but then I discovered the Cobb CineBistro in Hyde Park and I was hooked. The Cobb has pretty decent food, good wine and they don’t allow loud mouthed assholes. I think they even have a sign posted somewhere that says, “Loud Mouthed Assholes Are Not Allowed, and please shut off those damn cell phones.” I am pretty sure I saw that sign somewhere.

Anyway, that brings me back to the subject of Alice. The Fair Maiden Lydia, her daughter and son-in-law, and I went to the Cobb last night to see this movie. The food was good, the Argentine Malbec was superb, but what about the movie you may ask? I am not sure about the movie since three of us dozed off several times during the showing. Only my Fair Maiden managed to stay awake through it all. I would have missed more of the movie except the sound effects kept waking me up.

It’s a sign of old age I suppose, but I miss the days when movies had substance. Today’s movies seem to be mostly razzle and dazzle and little of anything else, like a story. The three dimensional effects added nothing to this movie. Indeed, the effect wasn’t nearly as intense as the old 1950’s 3D movies where the mad doctor’s hypodermic needle that was big enough to give an enema to an elephant with the drop of liquid death dribbling off the tip came right at your eyeball and if you didn’t duck it would have pierced your eye and ripped into your brain. I do like the new 3D glasses though. They remind me of the BCGs (birth control glasses) the Army would hand out to the visually impaired among us.

It is almost beer thirty so its time to wrap this up with one last comment: Love the Cobb, hated the movie. Let’s drink!

Saturday, March 13, 2010

March Winds and April Showers

According to the Mother Goose rhyme these two weather events bring May flowers. We can only hope, because this has been a really nasty winter. Even those of us who live in SOG City, normally the warmer part of Hillsborough County, have been freezing our nuts off. Well, those of us who had them to begin with. The other half of our citizenry have had other appendages to worry about I am sure. Anyway, I am grateful that the freezes seem to have gone even though the winds have been gusting with gusto.

We had a leaf catcher installed in our back yard a number of years ago and it has been working overtime of late. Every frigging leaf in the neighborhood lands there. That wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have to scoop them out…daily. In addition to scooping leaves it is also necessary to replenish the chlorine levels since leaves seem to love chlorine and just suck it up.

If I had it to do over I would have eschewed the leaf catcher and just let the damn things fall on the ground and stay there. Once on the ground they are no longer leaves, they become mulch and are much cheaper than what I buy on a regular basis from Home Depot. This brings to mind, if Home Depot stock is up they can thank me. Between the home and garden I am supporting them, and they are welcome.

I suggested to the lady of the house the other day that I could cut back on my workload by shutting off the automatic chlorinator, tossing a couple of wheelbarrows of dirt along with some aquatic plants into the leaf catcher and then add some catfish or tilapia. Instead of dipping leaves, since I don’t think fish care one way or the other about leaves, we could sit by the edge our new pond, drink beer and fish for dinner.

“That’s not a pond, you freaking idiot,” or words to that effect she screamed. “It’s a freaking swimming pool and I am not swimming with a bunch of freaking fish.” My entreaties for a green environment and reducing our carbon footprint fell on deaf female ears.

Women can be such poops!