The institutional mouthpiece of Kjel.org

Fun news from the Chief Photographer. This Labor Day the CEO might make it as far as Beaverton.

The Autumn gambling season is upon us again, and the CEO invites anyone I’ve forgotten to email already who may want in on some college football action to get in touch with me pronto. The CEO is a horrible gambler, and you are guaranteed* to win should you ever wager with him on anything.

*Actual winning is not guaranteed. This football pool should be played for entertainment only and should not be played for investment purposes. Should you play it for investment purposes please be aware that (hopefully, for the CEO anyway) past performance is not a guide to future performance and should not be used as a reason for selecting a particular investment.

Thank God the CEO isn’t in the millitary: this country would be doomed.

I knew that the CFO was actually going to be home for dinner last night, so I decided that I would cook her something nice. On Friday I went to the store looking for ideas. I knew that at the HQ we had at least a half pound of bacon (If that surprised you you really should pay more attention here) and some other random odds and ends. Big sea scallops were on sale at the, uh, gourmet grocery store I frequent (Their jingle: “You’ll find it aaaat Fred M. . . “), so a dozen of those tasty fellows went into the cart. I then went looking for recipes; I ended up making this last night. Good lord but it was good. I’m wrapping everything I eat in bacon from now on.

The recipe calls for bay scallops but sea scallops worked better. And they were on sale. Also, standard bacon tasted fine, just fine. In the sauce I used dried mint instead of fresh and it was OK; I also increased the sugar a bit and added some ground pepper in addition to the peppercorns. Turned out to be very, very tasty. Matched with salad, fresh bread, and a blushingly nubile, yet still somewhat demure Cotes Du Rhone: it was a fine meal, even by the CEO’s exacting standards.

The CFO hasn’t been home much this week or weekend because of work: dangerous times for boys of all ages. The lad would rather that I not describe certain activities at the HQ and how Jr. and the CEO came to an accomodation regarding those activities, so let’s just let the pictures do the talking. Feel free to construct your own narrative:

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That is just one hell of a good dog. Not sure who her owner is, but I like the picture a lot.

I’m sorry none of us ever bought something like this for Zoe. She would have loved it. We wouldn’t have minded either, I think.

West Nile Discovered In Willamette Valley
SALEM, Ore. — A Marion County blue jay infected with West Nile has piqued the interest of local health officials. . . West Nile is transmitted by mosquitoes who bite infected birds and they bite humans. . . The best defense is preventing mosquito bites.

Best defense, eh? Maybe. But the CEO has to think that at least a good defense against West Nile might involve lots and lots of DDT and #4 shotgun shells, and be a bit more entertaining than putting on bugspray. It’s probably lucky for winged beasts of all variety that I don’t live in Salem anymore.

The other day I wondered if I could determine which 38 criminal convictions in Oregon would prevent a person from obtaining a state teacher’s license. An impossible task, I thought then. But today it occurred to me: the CEO knows how to look up useful legal tidbits like oh, say, criminal statutes. It’s almost like I’ve been trained or even employed to do that sort of thing. Eerie.

What did I learn about the Chief Educator’s future prospects for employment? I learned that for a teacher to lose or be denied renewal of their license there needs to be an actual conviction of a crime on the list, not just an accusation or strong suspicion. I think the Chief Educator’s job is saved on that little technicality.

A few crimes from the list in no particular order and selected for no particular reason. No particular reason whatsoever. Aggravated Murder. Public Indecency. Arson. Disseminating Obscene Materials. Prostitution.

Molding young minds indeed.

Neighbor situation update:

Who out there in internet-land knows a good fence builder in Portland? Or perhaps even has built a fence or two themselves? The CEO can make it worth your while — talk to me.

End of the world update:

Things looking good so far, but I am staying in the bunker for a few more hours just to be on the safe side. And all those cans of Stagg aren’t going to eat themselves . . .

Time to stock up on canned goods and ammo. Again.

The end of the world, maybe
There may be a slightly greater chance than usual that the world will end on Tuesday. That, at least, is the conclusion of the eminent Middle East scholar Bernard Lewis, who raised the apocalyptic alarm in a recent Wall Street Journal op-ed essay. In this doomsday scenario, Iran and its belligerent president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, loom large. According to Lewis, Tuesday, Aug. 22, corresponds on the Islamic calendar this year to the night in which Muslims “commemorate the night flight of the prophet Muhammad on the winged horse Buraq,” to Jerusalem and then to heaven and back. Coincidentally, or not, Aug. 22 is also the date that the Iranians have promised to deliver their final answer on whether they’ll accept a generous offer by the European Union and others to suspend their nuclear program. Might that answer come in the shape of a mushroom cloud somewhere? Lewis thinks so. “This might well be deemed an appropriate date for the apocalyptic ending of Israel and if necessary of the world. It is far from certain that Mr. Ahmadinejad plans any such cataclysmic events precisely for Aug. 22. But it would be wise to bear the possibility in mind.”

Security was tight at the Chief Educator’s yard sale. They had fiendishly clever anti-shoplifting measures in place, such as watching me closely the entire time. But they never suspected the boy . . .

Stinkboy, even though he was dressed in his tactical gear, did a good job at standing around and looking innocent, but all the while stuffing his pockets with loot. Daddy, daddy, I’m stealing! That’s my little dude! I’m tearing up a bit as I type this.

Alas, he was not able to get the sandwich maker into his pocket, and I wasn’t about to pay $5.00 for it. I’ll steal one out of the Goodwill bin I guess.

I was a bit surprised to see that the Chief Educator was selling Mr. D’s “special room”, the place where we used to make him go when he was, er, acting out. Not sure what we are going to do with him now when that happens.

On an altogether unrelated note, a story about a teachers aide in the Oregonian this weekend reminded me of the Chief Educator some reason. Perhaps it was this quote:

Under Oregon law, there are 38 crimes that prevent a person from gaining a teacher’s license or having direct, unsupervised contact with students. Murder is one, bigamy another. Manslaughter is not on the list.

To the best of my knowledge anyway, that’s two I can check off on the list as “never committed” by the Chief Educator. I should really find out what the other 36 crimes are.

The CEO is not well schooled in the arts or their appreciation, but I know brilliance when I encounter it.

A ghost appeared at the Chief Educators house a few days ago:

I believe the Chief Academic didn’t actually intend to be sighted, let alone photographed.

I also just discovered today that the Chief Educator and * [another person] are holding a garage sale at their pad on Saturday. I may go over and see how much of my stuff is for sale, and possibly try to shoplift some of it. And some of their stuff too, for that matter. There is a certain sandwich-maker I’ve had my eye on for some time now. I long ago liberated its companion, the waffle-iron; that sandwich machine may finally be coming home to papa this weekend too.

* Title redacted for reasons of national security

Note to self: if at all possible avoid running over the mayor today.

Eventually, this is going to come back and bite us humans in the ass.

Kjel.org traveled to Bellevue this weekend to celebrate the 4th birthday of a young man named Chuckles, who just so happens to be my sister’s boy. The party was at the Little Gym, and was just about perfect for some rambunctious 3 and 4 year olds. The Little Gym staff was great, and plus, they handled all the cleanup and activities, leaving the parents free to enjoy themselves too. It’s the Chuck-E-Cheese business model: there’s a lot of money to be made if you have a product that removes stress from a parent.

Jr. didn’t have as much fun at the party as I thought he would. The party was at a bad time for him (he really needed a nap), but I still thought he would quite possibly turn into Captain Insane-O and scream with joy while running around in circles with the other kids. Maybe he knew that’s what daddy was expecting, and was trying to throw me off, because once the other kids started playing Stinkboy turned all quiet and anti-social. He actually walked out of the gym into the other room and closed the door behind him, grabbed a book off of a table, sat down and read to himself for a bit, all while ten other kids were yelling and playing in the main room. Weird.

Throughout the weekend he was a very good boy for Grandma, which he knows earns him points with the CEO. Excellent work young man. Your “bye-bye” call when she was leaving was a particularly nice touch.

On another note, Kjel.org gained first-hand knowledge of the infernal dots this weekend:

Anti-tailgating strategy backfires on Interstate 5
An anti-tailgating strategy on Interstate 5 backfired in the form of unexpected traffic jams, state transportation officials have discovered. Officials from the state Transportation Department and Washington State Patrol planned to meet today to reassess the $35,000 Two Dots To Safety pilot program on a two-mile stretch of the freeway north of this Thurston County town. . . Road crews painted dots 80 feet apart and posted signs telling drivers to stay at least two dots — 160 feet — from the vehicle ahead, based on the traffic safety principle of being at least two seconds behind another vehicle when going 60 mph. Long backups developed Saturday, the day after the program began, when drivers slowed down because of heavy traffic and continued to maintain the two-dot separation, although that much distance was not necessary at slower speeds, said Lisa Mordock, a Transportation Department spokeswoman

The slowdown didn’t have anything to do with anyone actually “maintaining a two-dot separation” as Ms. Mordock suggests. The back-up was because everyone on the road was looking at the dots and thinking WTF is this?, and we all know Northwest drivers are incapable of driving past something even mildly interesting without slowing down to look. Oh wow, there is a guy with a flat tire. I’ve never seen that before; maybe I’ll slow down to 45 so I can to get a better view.

Police Arrest Man After Incident At Crash Site
On Sunday, August 14, 2006, at 6:26 a.m., Southeast Precinct officers and members of the East County Vehicle Collision Team responded to a serious injury collision at the intersection of Southeast 12th Avenue and East Burnside Street. Initial witness statements indicate that an Isuzu Rodeo, traveling northbound on Southeast 12th Avenue, collided with a TriMet bus traveling westbound on East Burnside Street. . . During the collision, a 36-year-old male was ejected from the Isuzu. He then sustained life-threatening injuries when he struck the minivan after being ejected from the Isuzu. After the person ejected from the Isuzu collapsed on the ground, 66-year-old Marvin Lewis, who was walking nearby at the time of the collision, took the victim’s wallet from his pocket. Arriving officers arrested Lewis and recovered the wallet. Lewis was arrested on one count of Theft in the Second Degree and transported to the Justice Center jail.

Day 1 of no CFO went pretty well. Jr still has all of his fingers and toes and no major lacerations or contusions as far as I can tell. The lad and I had a little nerd-fest last night, wherein we watched about seven or eight Simpsons episodes with the commentary on. Super nerdly. We also played a few rounds of golf on the small course set up around our couch. Jr. goes wild whenever the ball goes in the hole, but he does a good job of holding his applause until a shot is taken. A very knowledgeable fan, that one. His swing is still bit rough, but he’s working on it. Even in current form it’s still better than his dad’s. We also ate pizza. Lots and lots of pizza.

I am pleased to report that I was able to fake out Jr. this morning and get in an extra hour and a half of sleep. Jr. often wakes up at about 4:30, wanting a bottle, and then goes back to sleep for several hours. Sometimes he doesn’t, especially on nights like last night where the both of us feasted. Anyway, today he woke up at 6:00, ready to start his day. I walked into his room with a bottle, acting like it was 4:30. I didn’t turn on the light, and walked quietly as if mommy was still asleep in the other room. I sold it pretty well if I do say so myself, and Jr. totally bought it: he drank his bottle, we said our goodnights, and he went back to sleep until 8:00. Daddy rules.

Tonight Jr. desperately needs a bath if he is to be presentable before the CFO makes her return. I promised him more than just a bath though; I promised him a Super Bathtime Extravaganza! I’m not entirely sure what constitutes a Super Bathtime Extravaganza!, but I’ll come up with something. One thing I’ve already told him is that he can have a bottle tonight while he is in the tub. On special occasions the CEO has been known to drink a shower-beer, and the Super Bathtime Extravaganza! will be nothing if not a special occasion for the lad. I hope he enjoys his bath-bottle as much as his daddy enjoys a shower-beer.

We might also re-enact the Battle of Leyte Gulf in the tub tonight. Last time the CFO was gone we re-enacted Midway. Jr. was mad that I made him be Yamamoto, so maybe I’ll let him be Nimitz this time around. Not likely though: I am the CEO after all.

The CFO is leaving on a work retreat today; Jr. and I will be left to our own devices for a few days. It should be pretty fun: there are a lot of games that we can only play when mommy is not around. By Friday Jr. should be much handier with a BB gun than he is now, and should be able to gas up and then get the chainsaw started on his own, without daddy’s help. I also hope to teach him the “it’s so fun to mow the lawn” game. Or it’s quite possible we’ll lay around and watch TV for three days. Really, it could go either way.

The CFO has always been a trendsetter:

The perfume industry has long followed conventions: nice-smelling ingredients, usually derived from flowers and plants, are blended into a harmony of aromas, creating fragrant concoctions to allure and delight. But an emerging trend is seeing perfumers break with tradition, as they look to diversify in an over-flooded market. . . . “Savvy fragrance companies have realised that more discerning customers don’t want to smell like everyone else,” confirms Caroline Brien, beauty features editor at Marie Claire. “There’s a small but significant trend for fragrances that don’t conform to tradition, and it’s a trend that’s growing.” The most recent - and definitely most surprising - launch captures the smell of Stilton cheese. . . Eau de Stilton is a ‘distinctive’ olfactory blend of notes including clary sage, yarrow and angelica seed .

At the risk of giving you, gentle reader, “TMI“, this note: the CEO has trouble “keeping his hands to himself” when the CFO is wearing this perfume. Did she think or even suspect this would happen? How could she possibly have known this perfume’s effect on the CEO? Just a happy coincidence, I guess.

1. I don’t really believe in karma, but apparently karma believes in me: Four 23 year old males and their dog just moved into the rental house on the kitchen side of the HQ. Previous tenants? Quiet. These guys? Not so much. They (and their guests) are partying hard on a Sunday night. And a Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, etc. What is this world coming to? The CEO would have never even considered such a thing at their age. For shame. Plus, the bastards haven’t even invited me over.

It’s official now I guess: the CEO is a grouchy old man. It feels good on some level to finally accept the inevitable. As such, I’ll be out in front of my house next Sunday bright and early with my gas powered weed-wacker, wacking away. Whether there are actually weeds needing wacking is immaterial. Chief Educator by the way, I could use my chainsaw back too. I’m sure I can find something on that side of the house that needs cutting on a Saturday morning . . .

2. Since Kjel.org now has an official Zoo Pass, (not like the one I put in the CFO’s stocking in 2002) it makes no sense for us not to head up there if we have even an hour or two. Jr. likes the animals, but sprinting up and down the paths with no regard for other zoo patrons is really the reason he likes it I think. Kjel.org is well loved among the serious zoo-goers, I’m sure.

The CEO noticed something on Sunday: there is a certain group of people (not zoo employees, I checked) who, when going to the zoo, dress like they are actually going out into the wilderness to stalk some animals. I saw more serious hiking boots, backpacks, cargo vests and bush hats at the zoo than I saw when I hiked from the rim of the Grand Canyon to the river below. (17 miles in 105 degree sun, if you must know — yeah, I was homicidal at the end of it. Due to some creative bribery and selective threats, those records are now sealed). Silly people. Next time I make it to the zoo I think I’ll try to sneak in my fly rod - those trout at the zoo should be an easy target. Yeah I’ll be wearing a fishing vest, but for a reason, dammit.

3. Someone is lucky that I can’t remember who borrowed a bunch of small hand tools from me. I needed them Sunday and was unhappy not to have ‘em. The CFO got a bug up made an absolutely reasonable decision that Kjel.org needed a new mailbox, and Sunday was the day she was going to do it. She went to the hardware store early and bought some nuts and bolts that she thought would work. No dice. Three hours and some tears later, the CEO went to A-Boy, bought some additional hardware, went home, tore out some previous attempts, re-drilled a few spots, and then whirled about in a purposeful tornado of hex-bolts, locking nuts, wrenches, and ratchets. I had the whole damn thing done in 10 minutes, even without some of my tools.

4. On Saturday I was fortunate enough to eat dinner with the CFO at Fenouil, a restaurant right on Jamison Park in the Pearl District. The place is beautiful, with two floors looking out over the park, and sliding doors that open to bring in the outside. Soft colors, high ceilings, beautiful tables, chairs, and decor — I’m not sure there is a better looking place in Portland. The service was impeccable. We arrived a bit early, but, despite how busy they were, they accommodated us very quickly.

Our table was upstairs and had a great view of the park, but even better, from the mezzanine we could directly look down into the kitchen area and watch the chefs work. It was fun, but also a bit distracting: I of course would rather talk to the CFO while at dinner, but I couldn’t help repeatedly trying to catch a glimpse of the guys in the white hats doing their thing.

The service was friendly and knowledgeable. We asked our waitress for a wine suggestion after making our dinner order, and she absolutely pointed us in the right direction: she suggested an excellent Pinot that matched the entrée very well; I doubt I would have known to order it otherwise.

The only drawback? The food itself. Nothing was bad, or cold, or cooked incorrectly, but in a restaurant town as good as Portland, the food at Fenouil was only average. I had steak tartare as a starter, and while pretty good, it was only pretty good (as a friend of mine recently said How hard can it be? You just make it — it’s not even cooked) The tartare did have a raw quail’s egg cracked over the top of it: that was a nice touch. The CFO’s starter salad was fine, but was a bit misrepresented on the menu: for some insane reason the CFO was craving beats, but the “beat salad” she thought she ordered actually had about 4 small slices of beat in it. Kjel.org loves duck and had heard good things about the duck at Fenouil, so we both ordered it. I always think it’s sorta lame for us to go to a new restaurant and both order the same thing, but well, I guess the CEO and CFO are maybe at least sorta of lame. The chef cooked it right (rare) which is nice, but even so, it was good but not special. I think that maybe there is better stuff on the menu (I saw an order of sea scallops go by that looked really good), but all in all, especially for what it costs, I’m not sure I’d go back.

5. My back is sore as hell, but I am happy to report that the Chief Educator no longer has a woodstove in his front room. First the chimney, now the stove — what next will the CEO remove from the Educator’s pad? My bet is on a wall (or two), or possibly a fence. Next time, I might not even ask the Educator’s permission. Studley D’s father and I will just show up with our sledge hammers and get to work.

6. Speaking of karma yet again: a few years ago everyone was invited to a certain party on Labor Day weekend, a party occurring at the same time as the famous OSU-LSU football game. At the time I laughed at the Beaver fans who were missing the game. This year, I am attending the same party, scheduled for early evening on Saturday, September 2nd. Flerking karma. I still don’t believe in the stuff, but dammit. Just dammit.

Unless of course you have a couch and a Nintendo and/or a Tivo, standing is best way to drink beer; everyone knows that. Some crazyness from across the pond:

City tries to ban drinkers from standing at the bar
It should be patently obvious. The principal drawback to vertical drinking is the danger of vertical falling over into horizontal befuddlement. Police in Preston, Lancashire, think it is not as simple as that. Vertical drinking, they believe, is one of the country’s main causes of public disorder and would like to see it banned in the city’s pubs. Vertical drinking is a new term for what used to be called standing at the bar, long regarded as the natural refuelling posture. Sixteen pints of lager slip into the tanks much more easily when the gullet is erect rather than kinked by the body being squeezed into a chair like a half-shut penknife. Drinking while standing in a like-minded group, police argue, is a contributor to booze-fuelled violence. When the mindless nerd next to you knocks the pint out of your hand, it’s much easier to go for him directly than having to get out of a chair to punch his lights out.

Brilliant! The whole thing is a great article, even if the subject matter is a might painful. I miss going to pubs, and reading the London papers, and knowing (and even sort of speaking, the words at least) modern British English. I’ll get back to London soon, possibly even paid for by my employer. . .

Language Side Note: in Britain the insult nerd is somewhat more powerful than it is here, connoting more of a “person completely lacking any social graces” than an “unpopular bookworm” as I think most Americans understand nerd to mean. Substitute idiot and/or asshat and that last sentence makes more sense to American ears.

It helps Jr to deal with his PTSD to see that during the “war” he didn’t actually have it so bad:

This just in: the Hungarians are insane.

Or are they insanely awesome?

This is pretty scary, since the CFO and boy were just at the zoo over the weekend, and the only phone the CFO carries is a cell phone.

Witness frustrated by 911 delay during zoo attack call
PORTLAND, Ore. - The convicted sex offender accused of attacking a mother and her two kids at the Oregon zoo faced a judge Thursday. Jere Ryder faces multiple felony charges after allegedly threatening a woman and her two children at knifepoint at the Oregon Zoo. The victim fended off Ryder, receiving a slash from the knife, and screamed, attracting the attention of nearby construction workers at the World Forestry Center. The workers chased and captured the man, holding him until police arrived, Brian Schmautz with the Portland Police Bureau said. Ryder faces three counts of kidnapping in the first degree and one count of first-degree robbery.

All the construction workers the CEO has ever known or even heard of have certainly been gentle, peace-and-love, turn-the-other-cheek types. I sorta hope these guys were not quite so committed to the ideal of non-violence.

The attack was first witnessed by Kristin Alldrin, who immediately called 911 only to be greeted with a recording, and then another wait before a dispatcher came on the line. Alldrin said the long wait to get a live person on the phone was a frightening experience. She expressed frustration and wondered what the reason for the delay might be. A 911 spokesman says everyone who calls from a cell phone will get a recording, where they must verify it is an emergency in order to cut down on fraudulent calls. Others were able to get through to 911, including the victim herself.
. . .
Officials and 911 dispatchers have complained in the past that they get a large number of accidental and fraudulent calls from cell phones.

I guess I’ll just handle emergencies myself, if 911 is going to give me a recording . . .

The Jr VP loved the zoo by the way, since he is fascinated by all animals, known as bow-wows in his vocabulary. According to the CFO though he was a little bit afraid of the monkeys. That’s my boy.