Publius & Co.

All cicada, all the time! (Part Two)

As promised, more cicada pix. First, your intrepid cicada hunters (click on the thumbnails for the fullsize pic):

Victor on the left; Nic on the right.

Next, a DC cicada, photographed on M St. NW:

A couple of guys on a fence at Lake Needwood:

Lots of discarded shells:

And the reason you're here--more cicada porn in the extended entry. Not to be viewed by cicada's under the age of 17.

New Category on the Blogroll

Rob at Left & Right has earned himself a blogroll category all to himself.

(Butt-snorkeling at its finest.)

All cicada, all the time!

The gf and I went out to Lake Needwood yesterday evening, looking for cicadas. Yep, that's me holding Fred the Cicada.

We heard a lot, but we really didn't see that many--it seems they're more active during the day. We couldn't take pictures of the cool thing, tho: Sunlight streaming thru the trees in the distance, and the profiles of cicadas flying thru the sunbeams. It was a fleeting enjoyable experience that is best enjoyed live, and not on film.

I'll post more cicada porn later tonight. Heh.

Good night, little Witter

My little rescue boy, Witter, was put to sleep last night. He came to us a little over a year ago, when he was abandoned at our vet. The vet knew who to call.

He spent all but the first few weeks of his life as an alone rat--he never had rattie friends, though he tried. He loved people, tho, and he and I would sit together and watch old movies together. Occasionally he'd lick and groom my arm or hands, or chew on my shirt.

As he developed a large tumor, the gf and I moved him into a single-level cage, where he did something I haven't seen a rat do before: Not only did he *not* chew his cuddle cup to shreds, he would flip it upside down, so that he could either sit on top, or hide underneath it. Silly little boy!

There was a visible change in the last few days. He wasn't as active; he wouldn't crawl up onto my shoulder nor would he (try to) chew my shirt. When he developed a definite grunt to his breathing, I knew it was time. The gf stayed home with him to make sure he was comfortable. I left work early so the three of us could take him back to the vet who, thirteen months ago, gave him a second life with us.

Good night, sweet Witter, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!

Cicada city!

If you've read the gf's blog, you know we spent Saturday morning in College Park. She was there to see how much the campus had changed; I was there to eat fries and a gyro at Marathon Deli, and to look at bikes that I don't need at College Park Bicycles.

As a bonus, The Mall at U-MD was filled with cicadas. The curly-winged stud above was hanging around The Mall...and two shameless cicadas had hooked up on a sidewalk on Campus Drive. Yep, there's cicada pr0n in the extended entry--not to be viewed by cicadas under the age of 17.

Cole Porter 101

I had two comments in my post linking to the Memeblog, from two different people, saying basically the same thing: That my post sounded like a song.

At the risk of sounding like a pompous ass--that's because it was a (poor) satire of a song; namely, Let's Do It (Let's Fall In Love), which was written by Cole Porter in 1928. The first verse is:

Birds do it, bees do it
Even educated fleas do it
Let's do it, let's fall in love

It's a cute little song, and there are few Americans who don't know that verse. OTOH, damn few know the rest of it (yep, including me). Lord knows this German couple hadn't heard it (thanks for pointing that out, other Sweety!)

But anyway, don't you like how I rhymed "cheese" for "fleas?" That part was giving me fits, until I realized if I mentioned "cheese" most Munuvians would immediately think of LeeAnn.

As well they should.

Beef Medallions in a Mustard-Cream Sauce (for two)

But first, a little background: On Monday, Rob and The Big Hair celebrated their Second Anniversary.

CongRATulations, guys! (BTW, that's a Rat Person version of "congratulations" but you probably figured that out). In his little post, Rob mentions he enthralled The Big Hair with his Chicken Tetrazini, but he fails to post the recipe.

Bad Rob!

So, in hopes of encouraging Rob to post said recipe, I present something I made up many years ago, and have farted around with ever since. I remember it as being one of the first meals I cooked for the gf and, sometime during the course of the meal, she put her hand on mine and said, "It's really good, Victor."

It was, too. It hasn't come out that good before or since, but maybe the company had something to do with it. Anyhoo, enough background--on to the recipe!

Beef Medallions in a Mustard-Cream Sauce (for two)
NOTE: I've never, ever measured any of this in my life. I suppose I should make it again sometime soon and maybe roughly measure, but I'm gonna take a chance here. After all, I took a chance the first time I made it, so why should I mess with it now?

Also, damn few recipes are cast in concrete; this one sure as hell isn't. I'm sure I put diced onions in with the peppercorns the first time I made it for the girlfriend, but I'm leaving them out here because I know some people don't like onions. Other times I tried putting capers in it, which wasn't bad, but it didn't really add anything, so I took 'em out. Mushrooms might go good in here, but I don't think I've ever tried them. Give it a shot and let me know--for God's sake, don't be afraid to experiment!

INGREDIENTS:
Four beef medallions, two to three ounces each (The first time I made it, I used these little small steaks from Giant, that were, to be honest, a bit tough. Try it with beef tournedos, cut from a tenderloin).

Cooking fat/oil (The first time I used clarified butter; for the gf I used vegetable oil--might have been olive but I wouldn't swear on it).

Cracked peppercorns, about 1 teaspoon total (To crack: put whole peppercorns on a cutting board and crush them by pressing on them with the bottom of a pan, or the flat of a knife or cleaver. You'll lose some if you try to do too many, so only crack 4-6 at a time).

Red wine, one-quarter to one-half cup (I use a cabernet sauvignon, preferably from the Boordy vineyards).

Heavy whipping cream, one-quarter to one-half cup.

Dijon mustard (Maille is the best. Trust me on this one).

Salt to taste.

PROCEDURE:
1. Heat fat/oil in a pan, add cracked peppercorns. Toss them in the fat a bit.

2. Brown beef medallions in fat until just short of preferred degree of doneness. You're going to heat them up briefly again later, so no need to go overboard. Remove to a platter.

3. Deglaze pan with red wine. Let wine reduce by one-half. Turn down the heat before it reaches the one-half point.

4. Add cream to the pan and let it reduce. The sauce will thicken slightly as the water in the cream evaporates. You should stir it pretty constantly to keep it from burning.

5. Add a tablespoon or two of mustard and swirl it into the sauce. Also swirl in a shake of salt (you won't need much).

6. Warm the medallions in the sauce for a minute or two (include any drippings from the medallions). Serve with the sauce over the medallions.

7. Also serve with the rest of the wine and a nice bread to soak up the extra sauce. And don't forget your veggies!

It's a new meme!

Nic did it!
Ted did it!
Even educated cheese did it!
Let's all do it!
Let's link to the Memeblog!

Note to self:

Turn off the phone and leave the building during lunch

Survivor

LeeAnn was the winner of last year's edition.

Who will be the winner of this year's edition? Could it be me? Will I even be picked? We'll find out shortly.

I'd better be picked. I applied last year and gave Pylorns grief when he was six month's late getting the next edition started.

What did you do during the boycott, daddy? (Part 2)

Yep, I got gas yesterday.

I'm just trying to figure out why...

If you had a history of asthma and shellfish allergies, would you eat cicadas? One guy did:

BLOOMINGTON, Ind. (AP) -- A man who cooked and ate nearly 30 cicadas sought medical treatment after suffering a strong allergic reaction to the sauteed insects.

Evolution in action, folks.

Happy Birthday, Pete!

Galbraith took his pen
To break down the men
Of the German army defeated
On the nineteenth day
Of a spring day in May
Albert Speer was deleted
And as soon as the battle was over
I was born in victorious clover*

Happy birthday, Pete Townshend, who didn't die before he got old.

*I've Known No War From It's Hard by The Who. Copyright 1982 or thereabouts.

What did you do during the boycott, daddy?

The Metro seemed just a bit lighter than narmal this morning. OTOH, I was there just a bit earlier than normal today, and it looked about right for that time of the morning. I'm sure a few people drove (or walked, or biked, or slugged, or carpooled) in today, but I have to say the Great Don't Take The DC Metro Boycott was a bust.

BTW, while doing research for yesterday's blogpost, I ran across the PubliusTX blog, based in Houston, where it seems Kevin hates the Houston Metro system about as much as the gf hates the DC Metro.

On the third hand, I saw my first panda today!

Which one shouldn't I do?

Tomorrow, May 19th, is either National Don't Buy Gas Day, or Don't Take the DC Metro Day. Decisions, decisions.

Or indecisions, indecisions, as the case may be.

Not that I expect either boycott to work: In order to be effective, a boycott needs to be in place for a very long run, and be supported by a large percentage of the population. One day ain't gonna do squat.

The gas boycott makes me laugh. Even if 100% of the population of the US decided to cooperate on a one-day gasoline boycott, the gas companies would enjoy record sales on either the day before or day after. The proposed boycott also fails to take into account the fact that buying gas is not a daily routine for most of the population.

I considered joining in the Metro boycott, but the math just doesn't work out. The flier I got at the Metro parking garage (on the ground) states the maximum rail fare would jump 30 cents, from $3.60 to $3.90, for a one-day total of $7.80. Add in the $3.25 I pay for parking and it'll cost me $11.05 a day to go to and from work.

Consider parking around here is $10/day (in a garage--good luck getting a closeby metered parking space), and the 1-gallon gas/day minimum, and it would cost me a minimum of $11/day to drive if gas were $1/gallon, which it isn't. That $11/day doesn't include additional wear-and-tear on neither the car nor on my nerves, either.

All this flies into face of the claim on the flier, "...it may be CHEAPER TO DRIVE..."

The flier also claims, "Metro predicts about 17,000 people will stop using Metro..." I'm assuming that's if the proposed fare increase goes through (I admit this flier is not the best-written thing I've ever read), and asks, "What if more than 17,000 people stop using Metro and drive instead???" (as emphasized in the flier).

Gawd, what a stupid question. We'd have 17,000 people driving around the area, looking for a parking space. Duh.

UPDATE: 3:05 PM. After going around the corner to the other building, I observed the top-of-the-hour ritual for those who drove into work and found metered parking: The top-of-the-hour-feed-the-meter dash.

NOTE: Some of you may notice a few changes--I did my math wrong when I totalled up some numbers. That's what I get for trusting Windows calculator blindly. I figured it out when I did the math by hand.

Bike shopping

Not for me, though. Nic's niece's sixth birthday is coming up, and she still doesn't know how to ride a bike. As part of her godmotherly duties, Nic has decided she should get a bike for her birthday, and I find it hard to argue with her.

(Like it takes a lot to get me to go to a bike store.)

We hit two local bike stores on Sunday, along with (I'm ashamed to say) Toys-R-Us. Nic is a safety professional and gets recall announcements all the time--it seems if a kid's bike is being recalled, it's a brand sold by Wal-Mart or Target or Toys-R-Us. Those bikes are cheap for a reason.

However, I was pleasantly surprised to see Toys-R-Us selling brand-name bikes--Schwinn and Huffy--alongside no-name bikes. Don't laugh; Schwinn mountain bikes consistently get good reviews in the bike magazines, and a Huffy carried Andy Hampstein (with 7-11) to the winners podium of the Giro d' Italia in 1988 (OK, I admit those bikes might well have been a re-badged more prestigious brand, but still. It said HUFFY on the downtube).

We discovered something new: Huffy has bikes with 18-inch wheels, which I think would be the right size for Stefi, seeing as how both of her parents are, as they say, vertically challenged.

As you might imagine, I saw my next bike; I was just surprised I saw it at Toys-R-Us. I was thinking my next bike would be a cyclo-cross bike--maybe a Jamis Nova or a Bianchi Axis. Something I could take on the dirt; something I could take on said dirt very fast.

No, my next bike is apparently going to be something that will look better on the sidewalk, going slow, while I'm checking out the passing show. It seems Schwinn is bringing back the Sting-Ray, and bringing it back with a definite East-LA kinda style.

Wonder if I could get it with a purple crushed-velvet saddle, and little fuzzy dice hanging off the handlebars?

Muddling the language.

During my early morning reading, I discovered LeeAnn has sperm in her head but couldn't quite figure out how it got there.

Anyway, I had to help her out, even though that means I'm risking massive retaliation from the gf.

Also today, I heard a male co-worker, in the presence of a female co-worker, state loudly and clearly, "I want a hummer!" Am I the only one who didn't immediately think he was talking about a big-ass car?

Another Annoyance

There's A New Member On One Of My Pet Discussion Lists Who Types With A Whole New Way Of Annoying The Bejeebers Out Of Me. This Is Not Quite As Annoying As Every Sentence Sounding Like A Question But It's Close.

Have You Figured It Out Yet?

Today's funny...

A friend just sent me this joke:

A Russian and an American wrestler were set to square off for the Olympic gold medal. Before the final match, the American wrestler's trainer came to him and said, "Now, don't forget all the research we've done on this Russian. He's never lost a match because of this 'pretzel' hold he has, whatever you do don't let him get you in this hold! If he does, you're finished!"

As the match started, the American and the Russian circled each other several times, looking for an opening.

All of a sudden, the Russian lunged forward, grabbing the American and wrapping him up in the dreaded pretzel hold. The trainer buried his face in his hands, for he knew all was lost.

Suddenly, there was a scream, then a cheer from the crowd and the trainer raised his eyes just in time to watch the Russian go flying up in the air. His back hit the mat with a thud and the American collapsed on top of him making the pin and winning the match.

The trainer asked, "How did you ever get out of that hold? No one has ever done it before!"

The wrestler answered, "Well, I was ready to give up when he got me in that hold but at the last moment, I opened my eyes and saw this pair of testicles right in front of my face. I had nothing to lose so with my last ounce of strength I stretched out my neck and bit those babies just as hard as I could."

"So, the trainer exclaimed, "that is what finished him off!"

"Not really. You'd be amazed how strong you get when you bite your own balls."

Terminal Beal

Great word, beal. I got nothin' except for my best laugh of the day (so far). It's an email the gf sent to me, subject line "cicadas."

i just saw my first two!

ugly suckers.

Well, I thought it was funny!

For what it's worth...

...I'm not watching the last episode of Friends right now.

El Cinco de Mayo in the Netherlands

Sweety (not my sweetie) at Hello World It's Me writes about what el Cinco de Mayo means to her. She lives in the Netherlands, so it's not about the defeat of the French Foreign Legion by the Mexican Army in 1862.

No, it's about the defeat of the Nazi Army by the English, Canadian, and American armys in 1945.

In the US, you hear about the sacrifices made by American families during the Second World War--rationing of darn near everything except air, women working in factories, and sending fathers, husbands, boyfriends, and brothers off to war. In Europe, it was a little different:

My grandma told me a lot about the war. How her family didn’t have food, how she lost her best (Jewish) friend, how my grandfather fought in the war, that he became a war prisoner and how he escaped.

Man, I'm a lousy writer sometimes. I wish I could tell you how my eyes are welling up right now, just thinking about what her grandmother went thru, and I can't begin to even imagine what crawling out from under the Nazi boot must have felt like...

I think those crosses all said, "You're welcome!" to Sweety and her family.

No, I didn't get it offa eBay.

My NS-5 "Nestor" (click the pic for a larger version)

It should be delivered sometime in July. Sweetie, expect a really big box. Design yours here.*

*For those non-geeks who don't get it, I, Robot is being made into a movie. Guess I'll be dragging the gf to another movie she doesn't want to see.

Quickie

Eric Conveys an Emotion is a fun way to waste twenty or thirty minutes.

My favorites are "'Oops' as in an Accident that Eric Caused Resulting in the Death of Millions of Innocents," and "Realizing You are Really Stupid and Have a Stupid Website!"

Wedding Dress Guy

Remember the eBay Wedding Dress Guy? His webpage is up.

Kinetic Sculpture Race!

Folks, you just know I'm diggin' the rat.

As the gf reported yesterday, we spent the day in Balt-mo watching (most of) the Kinetic Sculpture Race. It's been awhile since I've had that much fun outside.

Sadly, this lone picture (out of 150+ that I took) is going to have to do you for now. I'm busy trying to figure out why my computer is connecting to a neighbors wireless connection, instead of mine, even though I've moved my compter five freakin' feet from my router. Anyone has any ideas, please leave them in the comments.

UPDATE: The Baltimore Sun was there, though their reporting makes me wonder which Kinetic Sculpture Race they were watching. The crowd started chanting, "I think I can! I think I can!" when the circus train started drifting off-course when it was in the harbor.

Funniest line of the day was when one of the dog sculptures almost sank in the harbor: "Abandon dog! Abandon dog!"

ANOTHER UPDATE: OK, the very touching and solemn Blessing of the Feet: