Cell Phone Rant

As a long-standing member of Red Sox Nation, I would give my eye teeth to sit right behind home plate during a game at Fenway Park.  I mean, what could be more exciting that to see the team close up and personal and watch the batters deliver a few home runs into the stands, watch the pitcher hurling those 95  mph fastballs, and see the exciting plays at home plate?  Second guess the ump?

Apparently talking on one's cell phone or texting is more exciting than actually watching the game once you're made it into those oh-so-pricey seats.  I see it all the time.  So-called fans with cell phones glommed onto their ears.  I mean, how can you hear jack-shit with 34,000 screaming fans?  The dead give away for texting is watching someone with his/her eyes lowered toward an invisible phone, arms at sides, sitting very still. Except for the thumbs.  Gee, don't spill beer on your precious device. 

"I'm at the ball game."
"Who's leading?"
"Aaaa, just a minute, let me check the scoreboard. Oh, the Sox are leading."

"What inning is it?"
"Aaaaa, just a minute.  Oh, it's the bottom of the third."
"Who scored the runs?"
"I don't know.  I'll text you back after I've looked it up on the web."
"Hey, never mind.  I can do that, too."

"I'm at the Red Sox game."
"What's the score?"
etcetera.

Such a waste.  I know.  Give ME the tickets and you can sit in a bar, watch the game and yak all night.  Text till your thumbs drop off. 
Your display of self-importance just makes you look dumb. 

Red Sox Nation and Jerk Chicken

Tonight we're trekking to Fenway park with tickets for the EMC boxes, great seats that I would never have anticipated plunking my fanny down in. It's supposed to rain, and this will be, I hope, the night the Sox clinch the playoff berth. We have been watching all the games religiously, to the detriment of housework, writing, exercise, reading, well. . . you know. Rabid Red Sox fans. I'll wear my red sweater and maybe even my 2004 World Series shirt.

Yesterday I finished reading my WIP. Was very discouraged about how BAD some of it read, then all of a sudden, the story perked up and the prose was flying, and then it calmed down some, but of course, the good thing is that I can recognize draggy passages and fix them. I also read the first 20 pages of World of Mirrors and still like that book a lot, although it has been a hard sell. I still have hope. Sucking It Up becomes a lifestyle.

I took a main course salad to a meeting yesterday that is worth repeating. It was called a Caribbean Jerk Chicken Salad, and I found the recipe on the Internet. I made my own Jerk Seasoning, and this being New England I didn't grind up any habanera peppers, nope, just good old cayenne. The salad called for mesclun lettuces, baby spinach, apple, blue cheese, raisins, walnuts and red onion. And the chicken. I mean, what's not to like? We had it for dinner (leftovers) last night and also for lunch today. I just keep adding lettuce and baby spinach to the wilted greens in the bottom.


Here is the recipe: http://www.marjacpoultry.com/recipes/recipe-caribbean-jerk-chicken-salad.html

For the Jerk Seasoning, here is the recipezaar recipe:

http://www.recipezaar.com/Dry-Jerk-Seasoning-229443

I had the ingredients on hand, and saved myself a few dollars. Spices and seasonings are always better fresh, but then, you knew that.

I buy dried chive from Penzey's spices, http://www.penzeys.com/

They may even have a Jerk Seasoning if you don't have everything on the list. Penzey's rubs are the best, and I love Barbecue of the Americas and Northwoods Seasoning and a bunch of others.

Yours in soup and salad and fiction,

Grapeshot

Am I dreaming?

It's been a busy week, no a busy month, and September was crazy, too. The long simmering days of summer are gone and life has come to a boil.

So last night after dinner I was pooped, and with a post-dinner piece of that coffee cake, so comforting, I draped myself on the couch to watch the Red Sox. Ye Gods! Things went to hell in the first inning, and only worsened, until it was 7 zip in favor of Tampa Bay. Significant Other toddled off to bed with the remark that, "when I don't stay up to watch, they always win."

Yeah, sure. I dozed a bit, and woke up with the score still 7-zip and Papelbon was pitching, which means the end is in sight. Ate the last of the Halloween candy, chocolate being so comforting and fell into an apparently deep sleep on the couch.

Awoke and thought I was dreaming, because the score was 7-6, Tampa Bay, and there were two outs, and a man on second and Coco Crisp was batting. Red Sox fans know that there has been bad blood between Crisp and the Rays, rightly so, and how sweet it was, HOW SWEET IT WAS,
when Coco got a hit and tied the game. Wow, was I ever awake!

Thought about waking S.O., and decided that might bring had luck. While the Rays were batting in the ninth, I got ready for bed, and crept back downstairs--by now it was so late the automatic timers had turned off the lights.

The Red Sox got a man on and J.D. Drew batted him in. EVEN SWEETER! Then, of course, I had to wake S.O. up. In Boston, we take our baseball seriously in Red Sox Nation.

So revved up by the excitement and my ill-timed nap, that I had to read some Proust to get my mind and body in the mood for sleep.

Holy freakin' crap, who would have thunk it?

Cat blog day? Forget it. Annie barfed and Thisbe had lovey time and complained about everything. Same old. Same old. The cats are waaayyyy to portly for a hawk or an owl to carry off.

Grapeshot