The Good Word

Lately I've been hearing from all sectors of my Web 2.0 life that I need to focus my blog, refine my vision of what I'd like it to be and get into a groove. I've been taking that to heart and after at least 2 1/2 hours of consideration I think, if my blog could be known for only one thing, I'd like it to be the exhaustive and complete source for all "I like my coffee like I like..." jokes. I only know of three or so variations myself, but I know there is potential there. Try your hand at one today and leave it as a comment.

Breathing Easy

Since I've started teaching, every Friday is the best day of my entire life. Our Fridays are shortened, which means that the kids leave at about 1:30 and I don't teach Latin at all - a small compensation for the fact that the periods between classes are only three minutes. While I struggle to stay on task for that extra afternoon prep-time, I enjoy the fact that the four classes I do teach on Fridays are shortened to 40 minutes.

Yesterday the 8th graders gave impromptu speeches, based on prompts like "If you could tell Obama and McCain one thing, what would it be?" and "How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?" They were required to speak for a minute and a half and then answer a question about their topic asked by one of their fellow classmates. It was by far the funniest day yet in my class, especially when it came time for the student with the prompt "Tell Mr. Good's life story" to present.

It turns out that in the eyes of my students I am a closet Canadian, born in 1979, to a world renown cupcake chef, and the son of a carpenter with an obsession for rocking chairs. I was also an amateur jump-roping star with Olympic aspirations, who kept rats and goldfish as pets (and a rat curled up in the pocket of my suit at all times).

I'm nearly finished with Julia Child's memoir My Life in France and while I've enjoyed the ride, not a bit of that enjoyment comes from picturing my grandma, a woman who would be about Julia's age, were either of them still alive, and nearly her height, as well. My favorite moment in the entire book occurred on page 289 and constitutes the harshest euphemism I've ever encountered, which is saying something as I'm a sort of connoisseur of kakophonisms. After relating how her dear friend Jim Beard had nearly died of heart failure Child says: "It was a close call. We were now at the age where some of our oldest and best friends were 'slipping off the raft', as the saying goes..."

Okay, first of all, that's surely not a saying and secondly, for any of us who have seen Titantic or read "The Open Boat" by Stephen Crane, that is an unnecessarily gruesome way to refer to death. And lastly, it's hilarious. Almost as funny as a T-Rex delivering pizza on a tricycle.

Here's a little bit of extra Julia, just to make your day:

For those two of you that knew her, tell me that this doesn't look like my Grandma Good. .

It's Friday afternoon as I write this. I'm sitting in a little coffee shop at the corner of Boulder street and Tejon (pronounced Tay-hone) - and two of my favorite locals just happened upon me and asked me to go across the street for a drink. As I've already settled in with my latte, I'm going to make them wait a bit.

There's no place like a coffee house on a cold day, and while it is certainly still T-shirt season in CSprings, my house was a too-cool 60 degrees when I got home from work today. Since Retriarus (the god of the internet) has cast a lingering stigma over my house, I decided to suit-up Zach-style (those Vans that I've owned since senior year of high school, my Gerber Scout Camp '99 t-shirt, my too-tight laundry day pants and that brown zippy thing that I wear, you know the one I'm talking about) and head to the local shrine of Retriarus to start picking up what he's putting down.

Oh and Brad, I want to you to know that I just started an Ingrid Michaelson station on your Pandora account, you were already logging in on craptop....

My Life in French

As I mentioned yesterday I've been reading Julia Child's memoir My Life in France. For those who don't know, Wikipedia tells me that Julia's resume includes several cookbooks, a number of Food Network-type shows, and acting as a spy for the OSS in Indochina. Rock on. Also at 6'2" she's pretty much the most intimidating homemaker to ever walk the earth.

My Life in France recounts the years spent with her husband in post-WW2 France that led to her personal and professional interest in cooking. Overall she's a bit pretentious and we've had our disagreements about politics and art, but I'm 150 pages in and I'm honestly enjoying the book. Not only do I enjoy translating the French that she's too pretentious to translate into a variety of dirty words , but I have a pretty good feeling that reading Julia Child while I eat my own dinner makes it taste better. If Julia Child is the garlic and shalots of dinner-reading, then Aristotle is definitely the "crap, the top fell off the seasoning salt mid-shake". Some books are just better spices than others.

I've never seen the value in biography/autobiography, but it's refreshing to read writing with an entirely different aim and tact than I'm used to. I also found out that she did some work on the newest edition of The Joy of Cooking which has recently come into my possession. Really, I was just starting to like the old bag when I read the back flap of her book's dustcover this morning and realized that she's been dead for four years.

Also, I've actually been reading certain excerpts from The Joy of Cooking, including the chapter on wine which, in its description of Pinot Noir, states that: "If the Holy Grail were ever found, Pinot Noir would be the wine they'd drink from it."

Wow. That's a pretty bold statement. I'm pretty sure that if The Holy Grail were actually discovered, nobody would drink from it, and if they did it would be reserved for Easter mass given by the pope at the Vatican. Bold and brazen words from the ever blasphemous and anarchical world of professional gourmets.

Also:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIKE!!!!
I vividly recall Mike's birthday freshman year when I, attempting to please the palate of my culturally diverse new roommate, got a lasagna dinner to-go from Savarino's and brought it back to Galloway while Mike slept off his first week of college classes.

Have a good one Mike; I trust that the ethnicity of your birthday dinner is the same, but that the quality and the company greatly improved.

Ever eat in the shower? It seems like it ought to be against the rules, but take my word for it: shower-eating is exactly the reason why they made Flavor-Ice popsicles. You know the ones contained within the plastic sleeve? Not only is the cold artificial flavoring extra tasty when you are being bombarded with hot water, but they are a good way to conserve water as well. If it takes you longer to shower than it does to eat a popsicle: you are wrong.

Plus, there's nothing like standing in your manwear (dress socks and boxers), listening to your favorite pump-up song (Britney Spears' "Hit Me Baby One More Time") and knowing that you are still eating the same popsicle you were when you jumped out of bed 12 minutes and 43 seconds ago.

Ramen is for Lovers

Despite having a long weekend I spent most of the last four days indoors. I toured the local coffee house scene, spent time in the library, and went into school for a couple hours yesterday. While I'm jealous of friends who were hiking and camping over the weekend, I've been content to stay at home nursing a cold and reading good books.

I finished Chesterton's book on St. Francis, and I'll give a full fledged review of that in the near future, but I also wanted to mention that I started reading both Julia Childs' book "My Life in France" and Frank Herbert's "Dune". Although I can only really stomach Julia Child while I'm actually eating (as a substitute for Colbert or The Simpsons, since the lovely people with the unsecured wireless network have finally shipped out), it isn't bad. In fact, it's nice to be reading a book again that is primarily about vocabulary words and pictures.

Today is the start of my second week of teaching and I'm feeling pretty good about it at this point. Of course, I'm writing this blog post from the past (6:12pm Mountain Time on Sept. 1st) so I'm less than 12 hours from actually being back in the building, which is a little frightening, now that I think about it.

Today is also "Back to School Night" which means I'll be at school for every second of my day. From my arrival at 6:00AM, at which time I will set off the door alarms for the third time in a week, to when the last parents finally leave at 9:30PM, I'll be going non-stop. If there's one way to add pressure to your first month of teaching, it's adding parents into the equation before you've even given the first test. Bad times.

I keep envisioning it as a School of Rock experience, where the parents realize that I'm not at all qualified enough or concerned enough about hygiene to be teaching their kids.

Dear Everyone:
Please come live with me. That is an invitation to every one of you to come out here and spend some time in one of the prettiest states in the union without having to pay for lodging. Give me a couple weeks with The Joy of Cooking and I might even be able to guarantee you food.

Seriously though, the only reason to have a house is to fill it with people. If I didn't think that some of you would be joining me out here (as Brad and Leroy already did this summer) I would probably just live out of my car. So, let me know when you'll be here (notice there isn't a "I won't be attending" box to check). Honestly, if you are reading this you have to be at least in my top 100 favorite people, so make a little plan Stan, just hop on a bus Gus and get yourself out here.

Also, I appreciate how concerned you all are for my culinary health. Last night I made a salad for dinner and if you don't mind my saying so, I don't think it looks half-bad (not pictured: the tator-tots I had for dessert).