Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Nerves
I took a mind-bending exam in June (CISA). This week is when we find out if we passed. I hadn't thought about the exam results, hadn't worried about it until today. Colleague who took the exam the same day I did will be out of town the rest of the week and wants me to call him when we get the results. There is an excellent chance he passed. After all, he has a CISSP, passed the CISM last year, so if nothing else, he has more experience with these kinds of tests.
Passing the test is, however, only the first step. If I've passed, I then have to apply for the certification, which is how they check to see that you have the appropriate amount of experience. But this week....it's results week. I do and I don't want to know the results. If I passed, that would be incredibly cool and I'd start right in on my paperwork. If I didn't..... Well, I'd be the first person on my team to not pass an exam on the first try. I'd have to take it again. Unfortunately, the next exam is in December, right around the time Cornflake is expected to arrive. Even if CF weren't an issue, November/December is just a BAD time to try to study for an exam. Which means taking it in June 2008, which is a horribly long time from now. (I think a Feb test would be perfect...what the heck else am I going to do in January?)
Passing the test is, however, only the first step. If I've passed, I then have to apply for the certification, which is how they check to see that you have the appropriate amount of experience. But this week....it's results week. I do and I don't want to know the results. If I passed, that would be incredibly cool and I'd start right in on my paperwork. If I didn't..... Well, I'd be the first person on my team to not pass an exam on the first try. I'd have to take it again. Unfortunately, the next exam is in December, right around the time Cornflake is expected to arrive. Even if CF weren't an issue, November/December is just a BAD time to try to study for an exam. Which means taking it in June 2008, which is a horribly long time from now. (I think a Feb test would be perfect...what the heck else am I going to do in January?)
Friday, July 27, 2007
Innocent....
until proven guilty. That's certainly the premise of our justice system. I know many people this week have decried Roger Goodell's decision to bar Michael Vick from Falcon's practice sessions because they believe that he's innocent until proven guilty. I don't disagree with the presumption of innocence when you're in court, but I do strongly agree with the Commish's decision.
Playing in the NFL (or any professional league) is NOT a right, it is a PRIVILEGE. It is something only the very elite have the skill to do and even those folks are not guaranteed to stay. Athletes get special treatment if they have significant talent and are willing to work hard. I would never take that ability to excel at the highest level away from anyone. But when you're on and off the playing field, you aren't out there alone. You are representing your teammates, the players who came before you, the organization you play for and your league. So anything stupid or (worse) criminal reflects on THEM.
You want to cheat and pump your body full of banned chemicals? Fine, you just cast doubt on every accomplishment of your teammates and league. You want to carry a lot of guns and be the tough guy? Now much of the viewing, PAYING public thinks your league is full of thugs. You want to go into the stands and punch a fan? Wow...I really want to go to a game where I'll be assaulted and pay $30+ to do so.
Pro sports rake in a lot of money and that money comes from sponsorships, deals on everything from shoes to soft drinks and.......fans. Fans buy game tickets. Fans buy shirts and shoes and hats with their favorite player's number. Fans buy DirecTV's NFL Sunday Ticket. I'd prefer to not give my money to cheats, thugs and people who will assault me. And after this week, I'm not the only one.
Playing in the NFL (or any professional league) is NOT a right, it is a PRIVILEGE. It is something only the very elite have the skill to do and even those folks are not guaranteed to stay. Athletes get special treatment if they have significant talent and are willing to work hard. I would never take that ability to excel at the highest level away from anyone. But when you're on and off the playing field, you aren't out there alone. You are representing your teammates, the players who came before you, the organization you play for and your league. So anything stupid or (worse) criminal reflects on THEM.
You want to cheat and pump your body full of banned chemicals? Fine, you just cast doubt on every accomplishment of your teammates and league. You want to carry a lot of guns and be the tough guy? Now much of the viewing, PAYING public thinks your league is full of thugs. You want to go into the stands and punch a fan? Wow...I really want to go to a game where I'll be assaulted and pay $30+ to do so.
Pro sports rake in a lot of money and that money comes from sponsorships, deals on everything from shoes to soft drinks and.......fans. Fans buy game tickets. Fans buy shirts and shoes and hats with their favorite player's number. Fans buy DirecTV's NFL Sunday Ticket. I'd prefer to not give my money to cheats, thugs and people who will assault me. And after this week, I'm not the only one.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Just Wild About Harry
With a movie out and the final book in the series delivered Saturday, it seems that everyone's wild about Harry....Potter that is. Despite me being an avid reader of darn near anything, I've never gotten into the young wizard. Of course, it's been highly recommended by one and all. And I think that's part of the problem. I'm always wary of "runaway best sellers". I felt the same way about John Grisham, say 15 years ago.
Both should have been instantly appealing to me. Grisham: Southern writer, lawyer, great sense of humour, decent characters, fast-moving plots. Potter: Geeky guy with little round glasses, fantasy, magic. Heck, Alan Rickman's presence in the movies should have been enough. While I've read some early Grisham (had to for a lit class and read the next 3 for fun), I don't read him now. If I were in a waiting room with nothing but his books, I'd pick up another. Barring that, I just don't find him *that* interesting. Or more precisely, I find many many books MORE interesting. Will I ever read the famous series? Maybe. If there were world enough and time, I'd probably read every piece of fiction and every biography published.
Unfortunately, there's not. And while the rest of the world finds him tantalizing, I'm simply unphased by Harry.
Both should have been instantly appealing to me. Grisham: Southern writer, lawyer, great sense of humour, decent characters, fast-moving plots. Potter: Geeky guy with little round glasses, fantasy, magic. Heck, Alan Rickman's presence in the movies should have been enough. While I've read some early Grisham (had to for a lit class and read the next 3 for fun), I don't read him now. If I were in a waiting room with nothing but his books, I'd pick up another. Barring that, I just don't find him *that* interesting. Or more precisely, I find many many books MORE interesting. Will I ever read the famous series? Maybe. If there were world enough and time, I'd probably read every piece of fiction and every biography published.
Unfortunately, there's not. And while the rest of the world finds him tantalizing, I'm simply unphased by Harry.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Foodie Heaven
The Boy's birthday is today, so we went out for birthday dinner last night. There is a new steakhouse nearby that has gotten good reviews and it's where he wanted to go. When you walk in, you know that this will be An Experience (not just a meal). The restaurant is formal and beautiful. Waiters in black pants, white tux shirts, tux vests. Wood paneling...in the GOOD sense of the word. Lighting that allows you to see adequately, but is soft enough for everything and everyone to look good.
The wine list had some reasonable choices, some mid-level choices and some not so reasonable price-wise, but reasonable for this kind of place choices. I don't think anyone would open a restaurant and call it a "Prime Steakhouse" and NOT have a Caymus Cabernet, Opus One. I was delighted to see Penfold's Grange as well. Australia really does make some incredible wines and Grange is the leader. Unfortunately, at $300 a bottle, it could not be invited to our table.
The menu itself was one that made me want to say "one of everything". Starters like carpaccio of beef, ahi tuna, lump crab cocktail. Salads like the one The Boy got (caprese--mozzarella, tomatoes w/ a little olive oil and balsamic), an iceberg wedge with blue cheese dressing, tomatoes and bacon, a shrimp and lobster bisque that looked incredible (in a large bowl). The steaks were a simple list, but when you think of it, there aren't THAT many cuts of steak. One very interesting spot on the beef list was the inclusion of Australian Wagyu beef. It's the variety (and technique) of Kobe beef, but just not done in Japan. If it had been, the filet would have been $40 an ounce. Yes, you read that right. The non-beef entrees of scallops, a lamb dish, veal and other things did look interesting, but when there's prime* beef to be had, that's what I'm having.
We got a bottle of Banfi SummuS, which is a Super Tuscan. It was Sangiovese with a little Cab and Syrah blended in. Incredible and even cooler that they decanted it for us.
The Boy's caprese looked quite nice and he said the tomatoes were very good (a critical element in a salad with only 2 primary ingredients). I didn't try any as I had the lovely crab cocktail, which was lump crab with cilantro and diced red pepper served with slices of honeydew, cantaloupe and avocado. The melons were good, but I love love love crab and avocado.
Dinner was steak for each, the bone-in ribeye for me and the Wagyu ribeye for The Boy. The steaks had a crisp crust, yet were perfectly cooked inside (to medium rare for both of us). Mine was the best bit of beef I'd ever eaten until I tried The Boy's. The texture of the Wagyu was just different, even though we had the same cut. However, if I were stuck on a desert island with only "my" steak, I'd be ecstatically happy. His side was grilled asparagus, which looked quite nice and mine was cheese-y stuffed roasted tomatoes. I always think about making these in the summer, but if we have "real" tomatoes, I can't bear to fuss with them too much. The steaks were incredible. There's just not much more I can say about them.
The service was spot on as well. Our waiter, John, knows his wine, knows his food and took incredible care of us (as I did of him when the bill came). We thought it was really cool that he recommended a trip to Valentine's (another new place in town) and a server named Karen. The owner stopped by a few times to see how we liked everything, told us a little about his decision to carry Wagyu from the Aussies as opposed to Kobe from Japan. We talked wine a little and we made sure he knew how much we enjoyed John.
Some of the other clientele surprised both of us. There were folks there in t-shirts and jeans, a cowboy, complete with hat that never left his head (!), a family near us in shorts, Dad had his cell phone earpiece clipped to the collar of his shirt, Junior held his fork like a club. There were (not surprisingly) "the beautiful people". Stunningly skinny girls who could use a good steak, but who probably picked at chicken. Guys in their post-golf wear, women with tons of makeup and jewlery, but not much more. We were dressed up nicely and I'm glad we were.
By the time we were ready for dessert, the wine had opened up to a very fruity nose and finish. Perfect with the dark chocolate cream brulee. The guy who owns this restaurant also owns a few others in town. I don't prefer the way he does cream brulee, but it tasted good, so I hesitate to quibble over technique. For me, brulee should be in individual dishes with the sugar carmelized right at serving so that it's nearly be "broken into". They did large pans of it, pre-sugared, bruleed and put back in the fridge. The berries with it were great and as I said before, the custard was delicious.
It was an incredible meal and a wonderful experience. However, I'm glad The Boy only has one birthday a year....we'd be bankrupt if we ate there more than a couple times a year.....
*Prime is a grade of beef that indicates the highest level of intramuscular fat. Only about 3% of the beef in the US are certified prime. (Thanks to Wikipedia)
The wine list had some reasonable choices, some mid-level choices and some not so reasonable price-wise, but reasonable for this kind of place choices. I don't think anyone would open a restaurant and call it a "Prime Steakhouse" and NOT have a Caymus Cabernet, Opus One. I was delighted to see Penfold's Grange as well. Australia really does make some incredible wines and Grange is the leader. Unfortunately, at $300 a bottle, it could not be invited to our table.
The menu itself was one that made me want to say "one of everything". Starters like carpaccio of beef, ahi tuna, lump crab cocktail. Salads like the one The Boy got (caprese--mozzarella, tomatoes w/ a little olive oil and balsamic), an iceberg wedge with blue cheese dressing, tomatoes and bacon, a shrimp and lobster bisque that looked incredible (in a large bowl). The steaks were a simple list, but when you think of it, there aren't THAT many cuts of steak. One very interesting spot on the beef list was the inclusion of Australian Wagyu beef. It's the variety (and technique) of Kobe beef, but just not done in Japan. If it had been, the filet would have been $40 an ounce. Yes, you read that right. The non-beef entrees of scallops, a lamb dish, veal and other things did look interesting, but when there's prime* beef to be had, that's what I'm having.
We got a bottle of Banfi SummuS, which is a Super Tuscan. It was Sangiovese with a little Cab and Syrah blended in. Incredible and even cooler that they decanted it for us.
The Boy's caprese looked quite nice and he said the tomatoes were very good (a critical element in a salad with only 2 primary ingredients). I didn't try any as I had the lovely crab cocktail, which was lump crab with cilantro and diced red pepper served with slices of honeydew, cantaloupe and avocado. The melons were good, but I love love love crab and avocado.
Dinner was steak for each, the bone-in ribeye for me and the Wagyu ribeye for The Boy. The steaks had a crisp crust, yet were perfectly cooked inside (to medium rare for both of us). Mine was the best bit of beef I'd ever eaten until I tried The Boy's. The texture of the Wagyu was just different, even though we had the same cut. However, if I were stuck on a desert island with only "my" steak, I'd be ecstatically happy. His side was grilled asparagus, which looked quite nice and mine was cheese-y stuffed roasted tomatoes. I always think about making these in the summer, but if we have "real" tomatoes, I can't bear to fuss with them too much. The steaks were incredible. There's just not much more I can say about them.
The service was spot on as well. Our waiter, John, knows his wine, knows his food and took incredible care of us (as I did of him when the bill came). We thought it was really cool that he recommended a trip to Valentine's (another new place in town) and a server named Karen. The owner stopped by a few times to see how we liked everything, told us a little about his decision to carry Wagyu from the Aussies as opposed to Kobe from Japan. We talked wine a little and we made sure he knew how much we enjoyed John.
Some of the other clientele surprised both of us. There were folks there in t-shirts and jeans, a cowboy, complete with hat that never left his head (!), a family near us in shorts, Dad had his cell phone earpiece clipped to the collar of his shirt, Junior held his fork like a club. There were (not surprisingly) "the beautiful people". Stunningly skinny girls who could use a good steak, but who probably picked at chicken. Guys in their post-golf wear, women with tons of makeup and jewlery, but not much more. We were dressed up nicely and I'm glad we were.
By the time we were ready for dessert, the wine had opened up to a very fruity nose and finish. Perfect with the dark chocolate cream brulee. The guy who owns this restaurant also owns a few others in town. I don't prefer the way he does cream brulee, but it tasted good, so I hesitate to quibble over technique. For me, brulee should be in individual dishes with the sugar carmelized right at serving so that it's nearly be "broken into". They did large pans of it, pre-sugared, bruleed and put back in the fridge. The berries with it were great and as I said before, the custard was delicious.
It was an incredible meal and a wonderful experience. However, I'm glad The Boy only has one birthday a year....we'd be bankrupt if we ate there more than a couple times a year.....
*Prime is a grade of beef that indicates the highest level of intramuscular fat. Only about 3% of the beef in the US are certified prime. (Thanks to Wikipedia)
Friday, July 13, 2007
Song lyric snippet
From Mary Chapin Carpenter's "I Take My Chances"
I've crossed lines of words and wire and both have cut me deep
I've been frozen out and I've been on fire and the tears are mine to weep
Now I can cry until I laugh and laugh until I cry
So cut the deck right in half, I'll play from either side
I've crossed lines of words and wire and both have cut me deep
I've been frozen out and I've been on fire and the tears are mine to weep
Now I can cry until I laugh and laugh until I cry
So cut the deck right in half, I'll play from either side
Pix from the past
A friend, who is doing a little office cleaning, sent me some pictures of a team lunch from 1998. Doesn't sound quite so far away, but for those of us in the pix, it is. One person has gone into a completely new field and has had a dramatic weight loss. Although I don't talk to her often, I'm very proud of her on both fronts. One guy used to have long flowing locks and was a bit, well, soft. Nope, now he's sporting a buzz cut and is nearly gaunt in appearance. One guy left Big Faceless Corp and I think all of us lost touch with him pretty quickly. The most ambitious member of our troupe is indeed, on to a high level spot with another company. I haven't seen him in a very long time, so I can only hope he's doing well.
I have reddish hair in the picture, so I can only assume that it was taken in an "I'm bored with me" phase when I tended to color my hair for fun. The pants I'm wearing are hanging on me. Now, they're hanging in the closet where they've been for quite some time. I'm holding a smoke in the picture, which also strikes me as odd. When I smoked I tried to NOT be photographed doing it. Actually, there is a long list of things I don't want to be photographed doing. Smoking is probably the least of my worries on that.
I was struck by how different we all seem (from what I know of us) now. Big Hair Guy is going to be on TV to be honored for some community service work. The other chick in the picture has moved on and while I treasure her as a friend, I don't see or hear from her often. I wonder how many of us in the picture still recognize our nearly 10 years younger selves? How much have we all changed? Are we even the same few anymore?
I can only speak for myself. I don't color my hair anymore (although I do pluck the grays), I don't smoke, my recent diet and exercise practices notwithstanding, I can't fit into those pants and won't for some time. And while I recognize the long haired near-redhead in the picture, we're not exactly the same. There are things I would tell her, serious and trivial, if I could. As it is, I can only look at her and smile.
I have reddish hair in the picture, so I can only assume that it was taken in an "I'm bored with me" phase when I tended to color my hair for fun. The pants I'm wearing are hanging on me. Now, they're hanging in the closet where they've been for quite some time. I'm holding a smoke in the picture, which also strikes me as odd. When I smoked I tried to NOT be photographed doing it. Actually, there is a long list of things I don't want to be photographed doing. Smoking is probably the least of my worries on that.
I was struck by how different we all seem (from what I know of us) now. Big Hair Guy is going to be on TV to be honored for some community service work. The other chick in the picture has moved on and while I treasure her as a friend, I don't see or hear from her often. I wonder how many of us in the picture still recognize our nearly 10 years younger selves? How much have we all changed? Are we even the same few anymore?
I can only speak for myself. I don't color my hair anymore (although I do pluck the grays), I don't smoke, my recent diet and exercise practices notwithstanding, I can't fit into those pants and won't for some time. And while I recognize the long haired near-redhead in the picture, we're not exactly the same. There are things I would tell her, serious and trivial, if I could. As it is, I can only look at her and smile.
Monday, July 09, 2007
Friends....Part X
It feels like I blog about friends and friendships frequently. Well, here's more. A friend from high school has been having a crisis lately. Even though we're not as close as we were years ago, I've been trying to help. Her troubles are (at the surface) relationship-based, but the real issue is her feeling of self-worth. She stayed with me for a while and I figured we'd talk about her concerns. Nope, not what she wanted. OK, fine with me.
I love her dearly, but I don't think she's progressed past the age of 18. She smokes like a freight train. Being sensitive to her "crisis state", I let her smoke in my car. Big mistake. Next time, I'll spend 5 hours driving 150 miles and us stopping every 15 for a Marlboro. Better yet, we'll take her car which is a large silver ashtray. Every conversation we had was interrupted by a smoke break, save for one...the nail discussion. She "needed" to put on a set of fake nails. So she decided that my dining room would be a good spot. (For the uninitiated, my dining room has a cherry floor you can see yourself in....it's one of the things I love the most in the house The Boy and I built, which I consider to be my "dream house".) I spent an hour watching nail dust and plastic nail tips fly through the room, trying to watch for any errant drop of chemical crap that I'd need to catch bare-handed to protect my floor. When she was finished, it dawned on her what a mess she'd made. "I'm sorry" she said "I didn't mean to make such a mess". No dear, you never do.
I got it picked up, but her apology rang hollow. Lee Press On Nails make *some* kind of mess....did she really think the "fresh from the beauty supply company" kit would make less of one? No. I'm afraid the simple answer is that she just didn't think. Had she thought, she would have stayed in the kitchen. Or waited to put them on some other time. Or.....something. Common theme, as it turns out.
After I took her home (more ashes in my backseat, 3 smokes in 20 miles/18 min and yes, I WAS petty enough to time it once) she called 3 times. Not three tries or three rings. Three distinct her-calling-and-when-I-could-I-called-back. Each one of those involved at least two calls. Twice, I was driving in pouring rain (with film on my front windshield.....wonder from what?) and didn't answer the phone. Once was after I'd called her to assure her that I was home OK. Silly me decides to call The Boy (who I literally hadn't seen all weekend). I get off the phone with him so I can answer the 2 calls to my home phone and one to my cell. Obviously, this was an urgent matter we hadn't had a chance to discuss 3 minutes earlier. Nah, she calls to tell me something about the brother of a roommate of hers from college. I've never met the man. I really don't care for his sister. I tolerate her bigotry, racism and hate to be polite to my friend. "Don't you think that's awful?" she asks (of the brother's situation). My first thought was 'I ended the only snippet of conversation I've had with my spouse for 3 days for THAT?' My second was a Ron White quote....I definitely had that "3rd generation don't give a f*ck" kind of feeling.
I swear......the Hurricane is 18 years old. Eighteen. In a 30-something body. As much direction, focus and awareness of the world around her as she had 18 years ago. And not one iota more....
sigh
I love her dearly, but I don't think she's progressed past the age of 18. She smokes like a freight train. Being sensitive to her "crisis state", I let her smoke in my car. Big mistake. Next time, I'll spend 5 hours driving 150 miles and us stopping every 15 for a Marlboro. Better yet, we'll take her car which is a large silver ashtray. Every conversation we had was interrupted by a smoke break, save for one...the nail discussion. She "needed" to put on a set of fake nails. So she decided that my dining room would be a good spot. (For the uninitiated, my dining room has a cherry floor you can see yourself in....it's one of the things I love the most in the house The Boy and I built, which I consider to be my "dream house".) I spent an hour watching nail dust and plastic nail tips fly through the room, trying to watch for any errant drop of chemical crap that I'd need to catch bare-handed to protect my floor. When she was finished, it dawned on her what a mess she'd made. "I'm sorry" she said "I didn't mean to make such a mess". No dear, you never do.
I got it picked up, but her apology rang hollow. Lee Press On Nails make *some* kind of mess....did she really think the "fresh from the beauty supply company" kit would make less of one? No. I'm afraid the simple answer is that she just didn't think. Had she thought, she would have stayed in the kitchen. Or waited to put them on some other time. Or.....something. Common theme, as it turns out.
After I took her home (more ashes in my backseat, 3 smokes in 20 miles/18 min and yes, I WAS petty enough to time it once) she called 3 times. Not three tries or three rings. Three distinct her-calling-and-when-I-could-I-called-back. Each one of those involved at least two calls. Twice, I was driving in pouring rain (with film on my front windshield.....wonder from what?) and didn't answer the phone. Once was after I'd called her to assure her that I was home OK. Silly me decides to call The Boy (who I literally hadn't seen all weekend). I get off the phone with him so I can answer the 2 calls to my home phone and one to my cell. Obviously, this was an urgent matter we hadn't had a chance to discuss 3 minutes earlier. Nah, she calls to tell me something about the brother of a roommate of hers from college. I've never met the man. I really don't care for his sister. I tolerate her bigotry, racism and hate to be polite to my friend. "Don't you think that's awful?" she asks (of the brother's situation). My first thought was 'I ended the only snippet of conversation I've had with my spouse for 3 days for THAT?' My second was a Ron White quote....I definitely had that "3rd generation don't give a f*ck" kind of feeling.
I swear......the Hurricane is 18 years old. Eighteen. In a 30-something body. As much direction, focus and awareness of the world around her as she had 18 years ago. And not one iota more....
sigh
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Sucked in
To myspace. Yes, I've finally joined it. For some reason, it feels even more self-indulgent than this blog does. I guess the fact that you list your friends and if I have 10 and someone else has 200, I'm supposed to get my numbers up. Fat chance of that. I wasn't all that interested in being popular in 7th grade and some 23 years later, I'm really not. I cannibalized the lists of a few (actual) friends to lazily pick up the folks I'd want to know about my site. I figure I can use it to get pix out, like the ones I took at a party July 3.
