Homer'sWorld

My afternoon with Brady.

Brady came over to use the laundry facilities (he managed to kill the washer at Patrick and his casa). So I made him take me to the Cup Cafe for something to eat.



















Brady driving.

I had the nachos and they were so good I ate them all and now I'm feeling very, very full.
























Brady sitting.

Forrest called and invited us to the house he is sitting to play in the pool. When we arrived I heard the distinctive sound of juvenile hawks.
























Hawk family on the pole.

One of the parent hawks had just caught a ground squirrel and the juveniles wanted it, but mama or daddy decided to fly down about twenty feet from where Brady and I were standing to eat it.



















Mama or Daddy hawk (I'd advise clicking on this one to see the bigger version).

That was the closest I've ever been to a wild raptor.

Afterwards we went inside and Trina and Hobbs ran up and I made them pose for a picture.



















Trina, Homer, and Hobbs.

We splashed in the pool for an hour, it was very fun. It was very unfortunate that Forrest forgot to remove his cell phone from his pocket before jumping in.

























Floating Forrest.

I was going to go to Bisbee Pride but my front car tires are apparently mis-aligned and when I got on the Interstate the Saturn started vibrating so horribly I had to get off and return home. I really wanted to see Cobban and Ray, but that will have to wait.

We live in interesting times. Should Obama become president, someone from my generation, a man with a Kenyan [not Nigerian as I previously stated] father and a white woman with southern US ancestry, will break the long string of white men who have controlled our country since before it was a country. His mother's southern ancestry is of interest, because of the seventh cousin thingy that I have alluded to in past blog entries.

Did you know that my middle name is Homer? Isn't that interesting that I don't go by my first name! I wonder why, is it because I am hiding something?

Well, no, it has to do with how common my first name is (John) and how many Johns there were in kindergarten in 1969 (six years after John Kennedy was assassinated). But anyway, if you were so inclined you could make up lots of bizarre theories about this situation and spread them around to make it look very suspicious. Of course, Homer is a Greek name so that proves that beyond reasonable doubt, something isn't quite right.

Why this rambling discussion of names? Barack Hussein Obama has a funny, strange name that doesn't cut it with those individuals who want only people with European-sounding names to run our country. According to the book "Ancestors of American Presidents," which sits on the yellow metal shelf behind me, the last 43 presidents have ancestors who originated from the British islands (England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland), Germany, Switzerland, the Netherlands, and France. We've never had a president who ancestry could be traced to Africa, Central or South America, or Asia.

And, of course, a lot of people really don't want someone with a different name (which he had every opportunity to make sound more American!) and whose father happened to be from Africa to be our president. It is somehow scary! So there is talk about how he wasn't born in the United States or that he is a secret Muslim. And other bullshit that spreads like shit flying out the back end of a manure spreader (which I well know about, growing up on a farm, you don't want to stand behind the manure spreader, believe me). I expect we'll be seeing a lot more of this shit and a lot of ignorant people will spread it and some people will believe it because it is easier to believe some stupid rumor than to spend five minutes researching the facts.

Another blogger said in an email to me today that I was sexist because I pointed out that Obama would be older than Bill Clinton when Clinton became president back in the 20th century. This makes complete sense to me. He says that he is going to vote for McCain instead of Clinton because Obama is too liberal and sexist. This also makes perfect sense. I noted that it was pointless to argue with him about this topic. That was really the kindest thing I could think of saying.

I'm inclined to point out bullshit when I see it. I have a strong interest in the truth- one of the reasons I am interested in archaeology and genealogy. If I see someone spreading lies I will tell them so, and if they continue I will shun them. I've had enough of the bullshit and like that line from that movie whose name I can't remember at this moment, "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore."

What's going through my mind today.

I have to go to a conference tomorrow. In a resort an hour south of Tucson. I have to get up way early to drive down there. Arggh.

On Saturday, I'm going to Gay Pride in Bisbee. I'll be staying with Cobban and Ray Saturday night. Maybe on Sunday I'll play in their pool. I don't mind driving down to see them, although the trusty Saturn is having a slight wheel alignment problem.

I wish Scott was going to be there, but he's busy in San Francisco.


















Scott wearing a tee-shirt I gave him, photo taken by Cobban.

Hung out in the pool with Forrest last night, we had a good time drinking a few beers and talking about life.

Making a Coconut Cake for the next pool party, at the request of Patrick G.

And a few other things.

It is hot and dusty at the dig site.


























3:00 P.M.

I always forget how hot it gets here. Yesterday, I worked outside and by the end of the day I was pretty over-heated. It doesn't matter how much water you drink, wearing a hardhat means your head is going to get fried. For hours after I got home, I could feel the heat coming out of my head.

Puff was so super naughty last night. Me, trying to sleep. Puff, wanting some attention. He takes his paw and pats my face. If that doesn't wake me up he bites on my arm, which is very effective. I pat his little furry head and then tell him to behave. Usually I have to yell at him to stop, by which time I am totally awake. Combine that with no Diet Coke and you can understand why I am so groggy at this very moment.

I had the usual at Rosa's. So much better than the crummy, expensive Mexican restaurant that I had lunch at last Friday.
























Forrest.

I solved the Mystery of the Missing Breaker Switch at the house where Forrest is house-sitting. It was right where I thought it would be. The two dogs at the house are fricken cute and I would dognap them except Mama Cat wouldn't be very happy about that.




















Three cheese enchiladas and beans, no rice.

My co-worker Susan brought in tomatoes she has grown in her backyard and I made two tomato sandwiches for dinner- one with mayo and ground pepper, the other with mozzarella and balsamic vinegar. A definite thumbs up on those two.

Out digging tomorrow, it looks like it will be a very hot day.

Let's make an Angelfood cake.

First, please turn the oven knob on your 1950s Visibake stove on. What? You don't have a Visibake? Sympathies, yo.





















Sift together one cup cake flour and one and a half cups powdered sugar.



















Separate 11 or 12 free range organic chicken eggs, saving the yolks for fattening lemon curd (you can freeze them). Add the eggshells to your compost pile to help save the earth. Add two teaspoons real vanilla extract, 1/4 teaspoon salt, and 1 1/2 teaspoons cream of tartar and mix in your cobalt blue KitchenAid mixer until the foamy mixture forms soft-to-medium-hard peaks.



















Fold in the flour/sugar mixture in thirds, carefully slowly mixing with a spatula so that you don't deflate the egg whites. In the background you can see my Better Homes and Garden Cookbook that Mummy gave me for Xmas back in the mid-1980s. I tore out and threw away all of the meat recipes.
























Using the spatula, transfer into an ungreased tube pan and bake 35-40 minutes (my oven doesn't have a thermometer, so I have to go by how high the flame is).
























When cooked, remove from oven and invert pan over a bottle and let cool. Voila, homemade angelfood cake.

I used an egg slicer to slice the strawberries (makes for nice uniform pieces) and let them sit for an hour in the fridge with some sugar. I also whipped cream (with a teaspoon of vanilla extract and a handful of granulated sugar). Apparently it went over well, as it was all eaten up at the Naked Pool Volleyball Game.

Unforts, my pictures I took at said event came out poorly, except for this one of Sandy:
























Sandy.

It was a fun (somewhat drunken fun) time had by all and I woke up without a hangover, fortunately.

No caffeine since Sunday. Amazingly, I haven't killed anyone despite a low-grade headache that sometimes appears.

The hummous I made last night was very good but I'm glad no one is in my office today.

Tomorrow, naked pool volleyball. Sandy and Jeffrey S. are accompanying me. I'm excited to see the guys and play many games of volleyball. Sometimes I act as cheerleader, jumping up and down in the water. It is very silly.

I have a very good farmer's tan from the fieldwork I have been doing. I know it is un-PC to say this, but I look better tan.

This pathetic mess is the Senator from my state running for President.



He is a fucking mess.

Experience. If I read one more person claiming Obama isn’t experienced I will explode. That would be very unfortunate, since then I couldn't make an Angelfood Cake for Saturday's naked pool volleyball games.

Obama is 46-years-old (he'll be 47 by January 2008). Here's what he has accomplished during that time:

- undergraduate degree from Columbia University (1983)
- community organizer for poor Chicago neighborhoods (1983-1988)
- law degree from Harvard Law School (1991)
- civil rights lawyer and law school instructor (1991-1996)
- Illinois State Representative (1997-2005)
- US Senator (2005-present)

In addition, he grew up in Hawaii and Indonesia, exposing him to many cultures, and has written two best selling books.

How much political experience have some of our recent presidents had? How old were they when they became president?

- Jimmy Carter: 4 years state Senate, 4 years governor (52 years old)
- Ronald Reagan: 8 years governor (70 years old)
- Bill Clinton: 8 years as governor (46 years old)
- George Bush: 8 years governor (54 years old)

Obama has more years in political office than these four men (currently 11). Bill Clinton was 46 when he became president, younger than Obama will be if he becomes president.

Yes, other recent presidents have had more years political experience before coming into office:

-John Kennedy 13 (44 years old)
- Lyndon Johnson 12 (55 years old)
- Richard Nixon, 14 (56 years old)
- Gerald Ford 26 (61 years old)
- George H. W. Bush 24 (64 years old)

I note that Obama has surrounded himself with very bright and competent individuals. Their teamwork produced a remarkable primary campaign.

When I hear people stating Obama isn’t experienced I wonder exactly what they mean. Is it a code word for something else?

My thoughts on the upcoming election. It looks like Angelfood Cake is going to win, although supporters of yellow cake with chocolate frosting and of the coconut cake are still pressing their case. Cakes never like to lose.

In other news, I had a strange dream about my evil grandmother last night. I was at her house looking for pictures of my father as a child (evil grandmother destroyed most of those, so we only have a couple). Wasn't that a fascinating anecdote?

I awoke to the sound of the swamp cooler on Sandy's casita making a particularly annoying screechy noise so I had to get up at 4:00 AM, put the ladder up to the roof, climb up, and oil it. I didn't fall off and kill myself, which is fortunate.

Forrest brought over an office chair and it is now officially Joey's chair. She loves sitting on it so I guess it is hers until Forrest asks for it back.

Tomorrow I get to sit inside the nice air-conditioned office. It was very hot and noisy and windy and dusty at the dig site today, with the giant earthmovers roaring by (I look up every once in a while to see if the cute guy is driving by, and whenever he is I think about the two stories his co-worker shared with me about him).

Pool volleyball season starts on Saturday. Of course I have to bring along a dessert. What should I make?

A). Coconut cake with coconut cream cheese frosting.
B). Yellow cake with chocolate frosting.
C). Angelfood cake with strawberries and whipped cream.
D). Lemon meringue pie.

I know, I know. I've made these many times before. But they always come out great.

Vote in the comment section and select your naked pool volleyball dessert!

For Kevin-Andrew: A recipe for Spicy Hermits.

No caffeine for 24 hours. Ouch. Being healthy sucks. Not even delicious Spicy Hermit cookies can make the headache go away.

In a couple of weeks the gays may be able to get hitched in California. I hope the religious freaks aren't successul with their lawsuits. So sick of nosy next door neighbors. The financial benefits of gay marriage (all those flowers, fancy meals, tuxedos, champagne glass hot tubs) will make everyone in California super-rich. Hell, I might even go there and find me a man to marry.

Meanwhile, the state of Texas returns kids to their polygamous mamas so said mamas can raise the little girls until puberty and then send them to the Temple to get raped by Grandpa Molester. All the while wearing super unattractive outfits because ankles and wrists should only be seen by the old geezer sticking his Viagracock inside you. At least Texas wasn't one of the states attempting to stop homo nuptials in Hollywood.

In other news, Spicy Hermits are very delicious but still haven't solved my no-Diet Coke headache.

Post 1600. Every morning I awake up around 4:30 AM and half-watch the clock until 5:00 AM when I finally get up. I switch the computer on and usually have a bowl of cereal (this week Grape Nuts with strawberries and skim milk) and some Diet Coke- although once the liter bottle in my fridge is done, I'm quitting for awhile. When I was with Aaron he reminded me that I really should be eating better, perhaps fewer chemicals is a good thing.

I look at websites and see what Obama and Clinton are up to and play with the cats until it is time to put on my workclothes (an oxford shirt, blue jeans or Carhart jeans, army boots) and get in the car and drive 20 minutes north to the digsite. The last minute or so, going north on the road being constructed, is always the exciting part- as huge road graders roar by, seemingly ready to run me over if I don't get out of their way.

The excavation is at a prehistoric site dating from about 1200-1400 AD. The new road and utilities pass through a portion of the site that contains pit structures, pits, and human remains and dog burials. My task is to remove the remains in a respectful manner so that they can be returned to Native Americans for reburial. The worksite is hot and windy, the dirt is a very fine silty sand that covers you by the end of the day. Frequently I blow my nose the next morning and dirt comes out.

We start to pack up at 2:15 and around 2:40 I'm back home. I step into the shower and the water runs off me a dark muddy color. The walls of my shower and spotted with dirt- I really need to scrub that off. I'm usually so hot and tired that it is difficult to concentrate, so many of the things I normally do at night (work on my local history books) don't happen. I read a little, look at educational websites, and play Facebook Scrabulous (addicting!). At 10:00 PM I go to bed and Puff comes and climbs on top, looking to play. And the next morning it starts all over again.

My earliest memory is standing in the dining room of our house on North Long Lake road and telling my brother we didn't have a father because he was gone all week long truck driving. This is when I was about three, of sometime in 1966. Later that year I had my tonsils removed and that two-day-long event is vividly stuck in my mind.

What is your earliest memory?

Forrest wants to come over and make cookies. What kind should we make?

A). Oatmeal raisin.
B). Chocolate chip.
C). Spicy hermits.
D). Lemon bars.

Superdelegates, please vote in the comment section.

I attended The Day Before Memorial Day Party.
























Pete.

I brought along Sandy, Cobban, and Ray. David C. is an excellent host, and he certainly is a great guy.
























Panchesco and Hiram.

The water was warm and the guys friendly.
























Louie, blowing.

The cream puffs I made were eaten up.
























Sandy.

It was a good time had by most, or perhaps all.

























Patrick, blowing.

What did you do this weekend?

I had Forrest and Sandy over for dinner. Forrest just got a master's degree so now I call him Master Forrest. He punishes me if I forget.





















Sandy et Forrest.

Onion and bell pepper quiche, salad, squash soup (Forrest didn't like!), and pineapple-mandarin orange upside down cake. YUM!!!!!

Tuesday night I had dinner with Sarah, who I went to graduate school back when I had more hair and weighed about 30 pounds less than I do at this very moment.
























Sarah Jane.

We had interesting conversations ("Did you know Ted had a sex change and became Patricia?) and the food was delicious.



















Delicious Ethiopian food.

We vowed not to have such a long time in between seeing each other. Some day I'll have to go up to Utah and see her.

At work I am out excavating at a Classic period Hohokam site (circa 1300-1400 AD). Doing sensitive work, so no pictures. Some amazing finds being made and pressure from the construction company. Very windy and hot and I come home and it takes three Q-tips to clean out each ear.




















Roadrunner (click to make bigger).

A roadrunner was standing next to my car at the office. Last week I saw a coyote nearby there, I hope the roadrunner knows that if he catches you, you're through!

Two thousand five hundred and twenty six dollars later, I have cool air in my house.
























Squash blossom, unfortunately later trampled by the electricians.

The electricity in my house dates to 1927 and many things are not up to code. So the electrician had to crawl above and beneath my house, snaking grounding wires and electrical wires and replacing panels and switches.



















Crawl space.

It is 104 today in Tucson, so I am glad that cooling breezes are cooling my sweaty parts.




















Attic space.

I received my rebate check yesterday and I will be stimulating the electricians with it, along with a couple of thousand dollars. But at least now I will be able to plug Martha the Mixer into the wall outlet and the fuse box outside won't buzz.

My Trip to NYC.

Wednesday- Late arrival to Chris's house, we lay in bed talking and talking. My snoring kept poor Chris awake.


Thursday- a trip to the genealogical library to look at some records. New York City is always exciting and smelly, filled with so many different people.
























Chrysler Building.

On the way back I visited a Catholic cemetery. The squirrels were very friendly. Many of the tombstones begged Jesus to save theperson buried below them, which is sorta sad and pathetic.

























Statue.
























Self portrait in the cemetery.

Friday- Lazy day reading the paper, watching a little telly, and then I headed off to Grand Central Station and met Aaron under the clock.




















Homer and Aaron on the subway.

Aaron made me dinner and then we went off to the HK Lounge for the blogger meet-up. Met many guys, too bad the music was so LOUD! Lots of people there, old friends and new, including Joe, Tony, Patrick, Mark & Rodger, and Eddie.

We wandered back to his highrise apartment. It was surprising how scared I was out on the balcony.

Saturday- Aaron took me on a tour of historical sites, lovely Indian food, and then the Morgan Library. Afterwards we headed for Central Park and hung out with the bloggers.
























Eric.




















Dennis and I.

Sunday- I headed over to Brooklyn and hung out with Les. We had lunch at the Bedoin Tent.


















Middle eastern lunch.

Les' adorable dogs, Norman and Hazel, were very adorable.























Norman, Les, and Hazel.

In the afternoon the bloggers met up at Dug Out and we listened to 1980s music, had a few beers, and I even smoked a puff on a cigarette (my third puff).




















Damian, Mark, and Aaron.


I was very excited to see Chas again, he's a special friend.



















Chas. and I.




















My hosts, Aaron and Chris.

Monday- Up at 3:30 AM to catch the Path Train and then a cab to Laguardia. I managed to sleep a bit on the planes, and back in Arizona, ohmigosh it is 100 today.

And now back to reality.

A busy day with Aaron. He took me to a pair of elderly cemeteries, a southern Indian restaurant, we oohed and aahed over Mesopotamian seals, and then we joined the other bloggers in Central Park where I got the top of my head mildly sunburnt. Dennis drove us back to Jersey City and I admire his driving skills. We saw only one slight accident. At Aaron's apartment a fell asleep and when I woke up dinner was ready. Afterward, Aaron demonstrated his Tumbling Towers II skills. This morning he spoiled me again with homemade yoghurt while I read about various topics on wikipedia. Later this morning I'm going to Brooklyn to hang out with Les. I'm already wishing I was staying here longer.

At Aaron's apartment, high above the ground. The Statue of Liberty is visible off in the distance, partially masked by fog. Aaron is in the kitchen cooking dinner.

I'm having a lovely trip. Chris is wonderful to hang out with. Who else can you have conversations about George Washington Carver and other esoteric topics? He looks good with a beard, too.

Today I did little, read the newspaper, watched some silly telly, took a nap, struggled with my bag on the subway. I haven't seen any rats so far, but sat in a Catholic cemetery and the inquisitive squirrels came up looking for a handout. I disappointed them.

New York City has many interesting smells, people of all types rushing back and forth, and very loud, personal conversations on cell phones. If I didn't need to live somewhere very close to the wilderness, I guess I'd want to live somewhere near here.

I'm in NYC, lovely time so far. Les, if you happen to see this call me, I don't have your number on my new phone!

My Dinner with Sandy. Only a few hours off the plane from Australia, I took Sandy to Rosa's.


























Rosita's Special.

I had the three cheese enchiladas, chips and unusually hot salsa, and a cheesy, jalapenoey appetizer. Arteries are clogging as I type this.

Off to NYC tomorrow, can't wait to see everybody and spend quality time with Chris and Aaron and my best friend from college Les.

Another exciting day. So lucky to get to spend another day trying to get swamp coolers working.
























These cactus flowers only last a few hours.

Let's just say that after hours of work neither cooler is working. I'm calling my electrician tomorrow to have him fix the electrical stuff that isn't working.
























Evil Swamp Cooler No. 1.

So yeah, Nicole at Ace Hardware is becoming a close friend. I ought to buy stock in that company.
























I am hot and bothered.

The day would have been a complete catastrophe, except John H. called and asked me to go have dinner with him.
























Iced tea.

Gazpacho soup, grilled veggie sandwich, and John H. That was a good meal.




















Soup and sandwich.

Afterwards I helped him trace his family tree and discovered that we are not closely related.

Tomorrow I'm out excavating a prehistoric dog burial. The excitement never stops.

Today is the official Day From Hell.

- The household hazardous waste place refused to take the trunk load of paint cans- so they are still in my trunk.

- The swamp cooler on my house isn't cooperating, for some unknown reason the new motor won't run. I have no idea why. I've got everything else taken care of, but if the motor doesn't work, the magical cooling breezes don't come through the ductwork.

- I still have the swamp cooler on the guesthouse to get going.

I need a handsome handyman to move in with me and take care of all of these problems.

About 90 years apart.
























Great Aunt Bessie at the house circa 1918.




















The house in 2008.

Some pictures.

It was spring time in northern Michigan, one day all of the leaves seemingly burst out of their buds.
























Yellow daffodils [not tulips!].

A visit to my brother's farm- as always I liked to look at the animals.



















Piglets.

My grandmother taught school for one year, 1930-1931, before marrying my grandfather. In her contract it stated that the students had a week off to dig potatoes.



















Schoolhouse.

The farm where my grandfather lived in the 1910s-1920s is up for sale. I went inside the ruined house and pulled a piece of wallpaper off for something to remember it by.



















Mummy and Susan in front of the house.



I spent Monday morning visiting with my second cousin once removed and looking through family photos. Most, unfortunately, had no names on them. I was excited to see the faces of two of my direct ancestors, both of whom died a few months apart in 1883.
























Great-great-great grandfather George.


























Great-great-great grandmother Christiana.

Back in Arizona it is hot and this morning I am groggy and achey and really don't want to go to work. However, a week from today I'm off to NYC for a real vacation.

I'm back in Arizona. Pictures and text later today.


























At my great-great grandfather's millsite.

At Uncle Fred's funeral I sat between my cousin Mike and my Amish brother. There were relatives there who I had never met- most of my mother's cousins had shown up. It was nice, as funerals go, and people said good things about my uncle, which was good. I told my aunt that I had wished my father had been like my uncle (in many ways they were polar opposites).

A second cousin once removed came to the funeral with a packet of photographs of our common ancestral family. Among the pictures were a pair of my great-great-great grandparents, who came from Germany in the late 1820s or early 1830s. I have never seen their faces before. I'm meeting with her on Monday to go through the photos in an attempt to identify them, most are nameless and will likely remain so. This is somewhat discouraging because I am fairly certain that two of the photos are my great-great grandparents.

And otherwise, rain-rain-rain- last night a long, loud storm. The leaves are attempting to leaf out and I saw trilliums in the woods. At the cemetery bright yellow tulips were blooming on my grandparents' graves. I forgot what Spring was really like.

It would be helpful if I chat with you using the telephone, if you could email me your digits. I have a new cell phone coming today, and I have no access to phone numbers. Brady, if you read this, you are required to do so, since I need to call you with my flight information for Tuesday.

Yesterday, Susan, Mummy, and I went and had lunch with my Amish brother. I admired the cute piglets and patted his new dog Elinore on the head. Afterwards, I stopped and took photos of the little one-room schoolhouse my nice grandmother taught at in 1930-1931. Then my mother took us to the old family farm, where her father grew up in the early 1900s. The place is abandoned so I went into the run-down house and took photos. Upstairs I discovered that the bedroom was insulated with old newspapers from 1900. I pulled a piece off to take home with me and frame.

A cat hair in the eye incident at Susan's house led to my cornea swelling up immensely. Very uncomfortable. I escaped this morning unscathed, driving in the rain to Traverse City. Today's goal: make an angel food cake and entertain myself while awaiting the UPS man. Perhaps he'll be as cute as the redhead who just wandered into the library's computer room.