Thanksgiving for Two

It was just Leah and me this Thanksgiving, with her studying for finals and me watching football. It was a nice quiet holiday for two.

We ate two blueberry muffins for breakfast.

We had two Trader Joe's tamales for lunch.

I had two helpings of turkey and mashed potatoes and stuffing and veggies and rolls for dinner.

For desert I had two helpings of Leah's famous Frog Eye salad.

For an after-desert snack, Leah made me two small turkey sandwiches.

And then for the after-snack-that-came-after-desert candy I ate one Ghirardelli peppermint bark chocolate square.

Wait a minute, just one?

Damn, I ruined the whole theme.

Bronco Logic

Check out this completely ridiculous comment from Cougars coach Bronco Mendenhall after my beloved Utes totally dominated his team this weekend.

“Other than some turnovers and short fields, I think Utah would have really struggled to put points on the board against us,” he said after a 48 to 24 loss. “Without the turnovers, it’s a completely different game.”

Let me translate for those who don’t understand the nuances of football. Bronco, in effect said, “If we didn’t suck, we would’ve played better.”

Brilliant and insightful, Bronco. Following your logic:

If it wasn’t for the vote totals, John McCain would be president.

If I had more money, I would be much more likely to be rich.

If it wasn't for gravity, I could probably jump higher.

And If Bronco wasn’t a passive-aggressive arrogant coach who refuses to give the Utes credit for whipping his team, he might be a classy guy.

PERFECTION: Utes Win, Bad Guys Lose

Thanks to Grandpa for taking the pictures... and for the ticket...

Thanks to the Utes for kicking the crap out of that Team Down South... and for being undefeated... and for making it to a second BCS bowl game...

It doesn't get much better than this!

Motherly Wisdom

"Ice cream always tastes better when it is scooped by someone else."

-- My Mom

Failed Joke

We now join a conversation in progress between Leah and Matt. Enjoy!

Leah: You're a chump.

Matt: No. One of us is a chump and the other one is eating a corn dog.

Leah: Yep, that's how it is.

Leah then picks up her corn dog and takes a big bite, with a smile that is too large for words.

Leah: Did you mean to screw yourself up like that?

Matt flashes a disappointed and kinda embarrassed look. He remains silent.

Leah: As I said, you're a chump.

The Dreaded Philly Sports Fans

Philly sports fans have quite the reputation — for being mean, hostile, merciless and fiercely loyal.

I’ve seen video of Philly fans pummeling someone wearing the other teams jersey. I’ve heard athletes say they got hit by batteries or even an air pistol. I’ve heard that they would boo children and Santa, not to mention their own team.

So it isn’t too surprising that I was a little uneasy when I brought my parents right into the middle of hostile territory last weekend. My Utah Jazz played the Philadelphia 76ers. My dad assumed we would be heckled constantly for sporting our Jazz gear. I didn’t know what to expect, only that I planned to hide behind my ma if it got really bad.

We took our seats in the Wachovia Center. The woman in the row behind us made some comment about our Jazz shirts and we ended up having a very pleasant chat with her and her family. They drove two hours from their homes in Hershey to see the game. They wished us the best. As did just about everyone around us. I bought a coke and chatted with some guy who really liked Deron Williams, who is also my favorite Jazz player.

I started to feel kinda let down when I heard some guy five rows up swear loudly and say something like “Those aren’t Jazz jerseys are they? BOOO!”

We looked back to see a scrawny kid all decked out in 76ers wear. He loudly booed every time the Jazz touched the ball for awhile, which I actually found reassuring. But he got tired after awhile. The rest of the game was pretty quite. My team won. The home team lost. Nobody said a word to us as we left.

So much for the reputation.

Philadelphia’s Magic Gardens

Big nosed faces amid shards of glass and ceramic, tiles that spell out a repeating theme “Art is the center of the real world.”

But this block of South Street sure doesn’t feel like the real world. It is the brainchild of Isaiah Zagar. He calls it his Magic Garden. I call it something cool to show my parents on their visit to Philly.



The Magic Garden here is one of dozens of spots in the city that have been designed by Zagar or someone duplicating his mosaic style using mostly found objects. He primarily works with colored glass and shards of ceramic plates or tile, but he doesn’t stop there, incorporating full sets of dishes, bike wheels and even a toilet or two.

I think it looks crazy in the macro, but oddly fascinating when you look at the micro. Take a section of the garden and notice all of the intricate pieces. By the time you are done, you really kinda like it. At least I did, my parents may have just been just placating me.

The Boss in Philly

Madison Square Garden may have banners honoring legendary piano men Billy Joel and Elton John, but Philadelphia's Wachovia (soon to be Wells Fargo?) Center has its own musical honoree

In a prime location next to the uber-famous Calder Cup championship banner won by the incredibly talented Philly Phantoms of the American Hockey League fame is none other than The Boss himself — Bruce Springsteen.

He has sold out 45 shows in The City of Brotherly Love, though nearby New Jerseytonians may be a little peeved that Phillyites are trying to claim their favorite son.

As for the last stop on our three city tour, Washington D.C.'s Verizon Center hasn't retired the number of anyone who didn't either shoot hoops or lace up skates. For shame, D.C., for shame.


Just to recap:

Madison Square Garden
Elton John
Number retired: 60
Honoring the number of times he performed there.

Billy Joel
Number retired: 12
Honoring the longest single run by any musical performer in MSG history

Wachovia Center
Bruce Springsteen
Number retired: 45
Honoring his incredible number of sold out shows.

Captain Jack Raids a Museum

This standard movie theater cardboard cut-out for the first Pirates of the Caribbean is actually on display in the National Portrait Gallery in Washington.

THEY CONSIDER IT A PIECE OF ART.

Stephen Colbert maybe, but Captain Jack? No way.

Visiting the Nation's Most Famous Arena

I probably should make that picture bigger, but my Mom isn't a big fan of it. And I'm probably on uneasy grounds putting that picture on this blog at all.

But really, I couldn't help it. That picture documents that my folks and I visited MADISON SQUARE GARDEN! It is the basketball arena of basketball arenas and we got to see our Jazz play the Knicks.

Here are a few observations:

• Madison SQUARE Garden is really a circle, a totally perfect circle, unlike any arena I've ever been in.

• Almost every fan there was a tourist, many from other countries. They clapped the loudest for the timeout entertainment involving kids dancing.

• The Jazz always suck in New York. The Knicks can't beat anyone, but for some reason they always play well against my Jazz.

• My favorite numbers retired in Madison Square are 60 and 12. That is 60 for the number of times Elton John has performed there and 12 for the number of consecutive concerts preformed by none other than Billy Joel

GirAWESOME.

Cracking a Cold One — With Leah's Help

My roommates tried everything we could think of to get this nasty old stained white couch out of our apartment. With each failed attempt our frustration mounted and finally James proclaimed: “We’ll have to use a chainsaw.”

Wally and I nodded in agreement. Leah standing a few feet away grunted in disgust and told us how we could easily maneuver the couch out of the apartment.

But why would we listen to her? What does she know?

The rest of the story is pretty obvious. Eventually I dropped the chainsaw idea and tried it her way, which worked like a charm, leaving me and my roommates more than a little embarrassed.

The sad part is that I seemed doomed to repeat this little episode. The pattern goes like this. Matt hits a snag. Can’t find a solution. Gets upset. Leah points out solution. Matt ignores Leah. Matt finally acquiesces. Leah is proven right. Leah says “I told you so.” Matt can’t come up with a suitable comeback, so he stays quiet.

I write all this while drinking a beer.

For those who know me that’s a pretty big deal. Since 2004, I’ve had serious problems digesting alcohol. After a bout with food poisoning, I was struck with what I call my alcohol allergy.

I spent two years in mourning, I tried doctors but got nowhere. They just looked at me and said something like “If alcohol makes you sick have you thought about not drinking alcohol?”

Finally I just gave up. But the whole time, Leah pushed me to try enzymes and other over-the-counter solutions. Every time I brushed her off.

The rest of the story is pretty obvious. I finally gave it a shot and I can now drink a limited amount of alcohol, probably a beer or two.

But I’m not embarrassed this time. I’m pretty happy about it to say the least. Now I can get a beer with the guys after work, or crack open a cold one while watching football. I must say nothing goes so well with a game as a beer, except maybe for my Grandpa’s brats.

The Great Chili Disaster of 2004

The light turned red. Leah pumped her breaks and then she heard a noise that filled her with terror and dread. It was the sound of glass sliding on metal followed by the sloshing of a viscous but tasty substance spilling all over the carpet on the floor of her car.

Then Leah was overwhelmed by the wonderful smell of her sister’s tasty vegetarian chili, a mixture of beans and tomatoes and more beans.

This was the beginning of the Great Chili Disaster, otherwise known as Halloween 2004. But it was only the beginning.

Leah couldn’t do much about it that morning, she was running a little late to work where her perky co-workers were getting ready for a holiday potluck. The chili was Leah’s contribution. They liked what remained in the crockpot. Before she brought it into the building, she tried to scoop out some of the beans that had now taken up residence right behind the driver’s seat.

The rest would have to wait. And bake in the car that sat in the direct sunlight for the entire workday.

She drove home with the windows rolled down, breathing through her mouth. She pulled the car onto our front lawn and we spent almost the whole night scrubbing and Shopvaccing and deodorizing. Kids dressed as pirates and superheroes and princesses approached the house and asked what we were doing.

“Cleaning chili that spilled in the car.”

They just gave us weird looks, took a “fun sized” Snickers and walked to the next house.