Handbill Handout

The United States is off to a great start at the Olympics. As of this writing the good ol’ USA leads the medal count with 14 total including 5 gold medals. This post is not about that. It is not about some hot chick skier with a bad leg taking better advantage of gravity than others. It is not the lovable, ragamuffin underdog story of some guy who had a multinational corporation build a secret practice facility so he could learn some new tricks away from the prying eyes of competitors. Rather, this post is about something more akin to the real life that most Americans lead, although as a culture we are taught to only admire (and in fact, aspire to be or pretend we are) the hyper-successful winners and deny the fact that most of us are just average schmucks with a few too many bills and crummy jobs. This post is dedicated to John Shuster and his curling rink. They are a group of guys who are living life as most of us live it on a daily basis. Just coming up a bit short, or long, or roll...

The world is short another curler today. Actually it happened five days ago. I have been struggling with this, struggling to deal with comprehending it, struggling over what to say. The stories I could tell don't fully express the sort of person he was. Praise winds up sounding generic like the sort of thing you pick up at Death R'Us or from a prefab sympathy card. Other people spoke as his service and said things better than I ever could here. But you gotta do something, right? So what to do? Then I remembered. This guy who's dead now see, he really, really loved this one thing I said to him once. He thought it was the one of the greatest compliments he ever received. He would even tell other people about it. So, since he loved it so much there's no better way to send him on his way by offering it again. So here it is in the same spirit as it was the first time. Eric, you're an idiot.

Arrive late Friday to a roaring party already ongoing. Help move the pig, stuff the pig, rub the pig, watch as they stitched the pig, wrap the pig and load the roaster. Down a few and watch some of the tipsier celebrants weave about the room in a motion replicated later by windblown trash cans slowly rolling back and forth back and forth back and forth on their sides in the street in the middle of the night windstorm. Arrive late morning Saturday to grease fires windstorms and a thermometer rendered useless by a now-too-short-probe and the howling howling winds. At least it’s not raining, I thought. Even more help than normal this year, 2:45 the middle gets to within 5 degrees F of temp and we vent the top and let it coast in until 4pm when it’s at temp and we move to the table to rest. Meanwhile the special guest dog that we’re dog sitting makes friends with everyone. Help consume the half-cans of crap beer that need consumption before filling with bay leaves garlic and spice mix and ...

My previous entry about a dream I had got me thinking about those nightmares that everyone has from time to time. You know the ones. The “falling” dream that actually has somewhat of a medical explanation . I never believed the myth that if you actually hit the ground in your dream it means you’re dead, then again I’ ve never hit the ground and I am still alive as of this typing so who knows? Then of course there’s the “showing up at school/work/wherever naked” or the “in your underwear” variant. I’ ve had that one too, never been able to figure out why. For any psychologists or psychiatrists in the audience on the occasions that I have this nightmare it’s usually the underwear version. I have an interesting variant of this as well where instead of being undressed I’m simply under dressed . Just last night I dreamt I was on the bus heading to work when I realized I was wearing a T-shirt and jeans instead of the requisite biz-casual stuff I normally wear. Or I will often dream during ...

I had an odd dream the other night involving some folks from my curling club. It started off like this: a bunch of us were staying at some fancy mansion north of New York for some kind of social event. I have no idea what the function was but it was a pretty decent party that went on on a Friday. On Saturday folks were departing to go here and there and wherever. Well, a guy I curl with and against on Saturday nights turns up at this mansion in full curling gear saying he's at the Douglas bonspiel at the Ardsley Curling Club (which was going on the weekend I had the dream) and someone on his team got hurt and he needed a player to fill in for the Saturday night game. Well, I was the only male around so he had to take me. (When I told him about the dream, he said "So this is the point where it becomes a nightmare for me, right?" Anyone who has seen what I do on a curling sheet would understand that yes, that is true.) So anyway the Mrs. and I agree to follow him fr...

No, I'm not going to tell you how your eternal soul is going to be saved. Got no idea on that one, no sir. However, there has been too much navel-gazing negativity on here lately. So today we will concentrate on happy things. The new cats are making slow but sure progress adjusting to their new home. Curling season starts tomorrow for the Mrs. and I, it'll be good to see our curling friends on a regular basis again. The game itself will be even more of an adventure than usual since I haven't set foot on the ice in 6 months. Sorry in advance about that Aaron. Fall is a great season. Good sleeping weather. WFMU is having "Singles Going Steady" week to promote the record fair this weekend with many DJ's playing nothing but old-fashioned 45 RPM records. A lot of fun shows so far this week. The Habs are off to a good start. The Rangers are up and down but not terrible. See, there's plenty going on to distract or detract from the creeping doom. The ceaseless...

Curling season is winding down for another year so it’s time to reflect on what’s past and what I still want to do in the few years that I intend to continue playing the game: I want to curl in Canada, preferably at the PEI Summer Spud. The City of Ottawa might be fun too but the level of curling there is way over my head and it's men's curling. I'd rather curl with the Mrs. up north. I would love to curl in Europe, preferably at a less-competitive/more drinking bonspiel. I want to get one more member of my family to try the sport so at some point I can enter a bonspiel or play in the club’s Saturday night league as a family unit. I’d like to extend my “curling footprint” in the US; the furthest I’ve gone to curl is Knoxville. I want to go watch the Brier live and in person, though I guess that can happen after I stop playing. I want to get 10 years under my belt at the PCC Stone so I can get my mug and retire! I think that’s about it. What I want to know from anyone wh...

Tonight I start the longest food-related project I've ever attempted: curing pork bellies . First, I cover them in sugar, salt, and spices and tuck them in the fridge until Saturday night. After I return from Saturday night curling they get cleaned off and then braised overnight in chicken stock. Finally, on Sunday I sear them off and eat. Fingers crossed that the process works like it should and we wind up with a fine, tasty Sunday entree. Speaking of eating, rumors abound that the fish in the $750,000 fish tank in the Staten Island ferry terminal are eating each other. Speaking of Staten Island, looks like we have our own culture war . That reminds me that we're about six weeks away from the annual human curling spectacular that follows the season-closing bonspiel and the ceremonial pulling-of-the-plug on the refrigeration system. Good thing we're in NJ and not SI otherwise The Man might shut it down. The highlight of the bonspeil is, of course, the Saturday pig roast...