Author: Karel Kerezman

  • It is WORDs. That come beFORE.

    Let’s make this as clear as possible.

    The text you sometimes find before the actual beginning of the book? It’s not called a forward. It’s called a foreword.

    A great many otherwise-intelligent people keep making that mistake, and it keeps driving me crazy. So, stop it, everybody.

    Thank you.

  • Don’t mess with Harry Osborn!

    The highlight of the weekend just gone by was spending some time at one of the local “laser tag” emporiums, Ultrazone down in Milwaukie, to celebrate the kids’ birthdays. (It was sort of a joint party, one a few days late and the other a month or so early.) After a bit of cake, ice cream and soda we all trooped into the blacklit arena and zapped one another with laser beams.

    Originally the teams were going to be Boys Versus Girls, but a gender imbalance meant that it became instead a Boys Versus Girls And Grownups affair. (The alternative implication is that I spent part of the afternoon as an honorary girl. Pish.) The G-and-G team chose the red equipment both times around, and we stuck with the same suit numbers as well.

    Something Ultrazone changed since the last time I played there is that the three available sets of equipment have themed character names assigned. Our first round consisted of Spider-Man Characters versus Autobots And Decepticons, and the other game added Star Wars Characters to the mix. (Ultrazone threw in another small group who wouldn’t have been able to muster enough for two teams and their own round otherwise. We didn’t mind much, as there’s nothing quite like a target-rich environment to make things interesting.)

    We all had fun, nobody got hurt, and I was pleasantly surprised by the improvement in my scoring ability since my last visit years ago. In both games I took a commanding lead on the scoreboard, helping (but certainly not carrying) my team to victory. There’s also something to be said for being on a team in which everyone’s very good about avoiding friendly-fire.

    Hey, being the top dog (or hobgoblin, if you prefer) earned me two free game coupons, so I suppose that counts for something. Right? More importantly, of course, I had the chance to say “neener neener” to my kids.

    I’m fairly certain that’s in the job description for fatherhood. Trust me.

  • That’s a paddlin’.

    This evening, I boarded the Sternwheeler Rose and spent a couple of hours out on the Willamette. I wasn’t alone, mind you. Tonight was the company summer party so the boss and his family were there, as were most of my fellow employees, some of their friends and family, and then there was Kyla and I. We ate, drank, and lounged around while we meandered up and down the river.

    I even managed to behave myself: When I waved at the Entercom Portland building, I used all of my fingers.

    Perhaps I’m something of a dorky guy, but one of my favorite parts of the evening was going under some of the bridges and spotting details you can’t really discern from above, or at least wouldn’t ordinarily pay attention to. Hey, we get our enjoyment from wherever we can, right?

    At any rate, the food and company and accommodations and weather were all excellent. Bravo.

  • That’s not sauce. That’s soup.

    Dear Marie Callender Pie Shops Inc.,

    For many years I’ve enjoyed your Fettucini With Chicken And Broccoli frozen entree as one of my favorite alternatives to spending too much money dining out at lunchtime. This classic dish, topped off with a few sprinkles of pepper (from the provided packet), has improved many an otherwise-dreary workday. And yet, I’m afraid that your product now disappoints rather more than it pleases.

    The first change was the exclusion of the pepper packet a year or so ago. I mourned the loss, but I suppose to some extent it makes sense. Most workplace kitchens have pepper available, yes?

    Your new packaging and recipe, however, won’t do the job at all. What used to be Alfredo sauce could now be better described as Alfredo soup. Seriously, almost none of it is sticking to the pasta or broccoli or chicken. Since the whole affair is now a slippery mess, it’s almost impossible to eat the meal without making a total mess of things. And, while I like broccoli well enough, there’s now so much of it that the so-called sauce is almost more green than white thanks to bits of broccoli floating around.

    Feh. Here I am, trying to save money on my workday lunches, and this is the treatment I get? To hell with that. I guess I’ll be stocking up on those nifty Stouffer’s panini sandwiches instead.

    Yours, etc,

    Me.

  • One Point Five Decades

    I’ve been a parent for fifteen years now. This blows my mind. Luckily both of my kids are turning out pretty darned well. The oldest can currently be found either gaming (on console, computer or handheld), pursuing advanced mathematics or indulging his newfound love of theater. (His mother is thoroughly delighted about that last item.) He’s also a fair bit taller than I am, thus taking after his mother’s side of the family. So far the expected teenager’s angst and attitude have been kept to a reasonable minimum, though I wonder what’ll happen when he decides to express an interest in dating…

    But anyway: Happy Birthday, Alexander. I hope you like your present!

  • Didn’t see any yellow brick, though.

    How did the trip go? A little something like this…

    Friday, Daytime: Packed, hit the store for last minute needs, headed to train station, picked up tickets (whew!), met Kyla who was taking the same train for different reasons.

    Friday, Nighttime: Rode the train (which left only fifteen minutes late), watched The Illusionist (enjoyable movie overall, Edward Norton is good and Paul Giamatii is superb), disembarked (arrived only fifteen minutes late, something of a miracle for an Amtrak run), met Jak at station, went to Jak & Karawynn’s house, met Sam (cat) and Tessa (dog), settled in, drank orange juice, got the grand tour of the place, met Tom and also Stacy (both humans) and hugged on Karawynn, chatted with everyone for a while, finally slept.

    Saturday, Daytime: Had toasted ciabatta bread and orange juice for breakfast (yum), sat around shooting the breeze with fellow Pooligans, went shopping for dinner ingredients, then shopping for wine (during which I amused myself by looking for our clients’ labels), continued on to a quick spree through the Pike Market area, went back to Jak & Karawynn’s place, met Maggy again, read through the printed copies of Digger (outstanding stuff, I kid you not), helped a wee tiny bit with meal preparation (“here, wrap these cobs of corn in foil”).

    Saturday, Nighttime: Enjoyed a dinner of grilled ahi steaks and corn-on-the-cob and garlic bread and juice, watched with amusement while others ate grilled mushrooms and grilled garlic and grilled onions and grilled zucchini and salmon (and drank plenty of wine, which oddly enough never set off my “drunk people trigger”), told the story of last year’s Denver trip (the search for the perfect steak dinner, which I assure you was not intended as an indictment of the no-red-meat menu that night, especially not after the ahi turned out to be so incredibly scrumptious!), conversed and chatted and shot the breeze and such, finally staggered off to bed.

    Sunday In Brief: Woke up late, put stuff together (nearly forgot my deodorant!), said goodbyes, went to King Station, boarded, had the good fortune to sit next to a companionable and reasonably intelligent person for the entire four hour ride, arrived in Portland, was greeted by Kyla (who had arrived mere hours before, on the previous train), went home, ate dinner, vegged out and then conked out.

    All in all, I had a splendid time. My allergies troubled me a bit, and I enjoyed a couple of moderately unpleasant headaches, and (of course) sleeping in a strange location was challenging, but those are the only downsides of note. Mind you, I sort of feel like I need a weekend to recover from my weekend…