The institutional mouthpiece of Kjel.org

I don’t think this is correct, but I’ll take it.

Friday night the Chief Educator and I (and our respective dates) went to Alba Osteria for dinner. As usual, it was awesome. Even with all the excellent restaurants in town Alba has got be near the top of my list. Plus, I ate five kinds of meat during my meal, including their always excellent (but served a little bit too cold this time — I like my raw meat cool but not icy) Carne Cruda. Mooooo!

The Chief was kind enough to supply a bottle of wine from his cellar to accompany dinner. It was the best (and most expensive) bottle I’ve drank in a long, long time. Thanks Chief! And thanks Walla Walla!

Post-dinner we decided to go get a drink somewhere nice. We headed toward Beaverton but every classy place we looked at (Hall Street Grill, a few others) was jam packed. Finally we found a table at Dessert Noir (it’s way the hell out there) for our tasty and boozy liquid dessert. I tell you, someone could make a lot of money opening something similar to the old Henry Ford’s out in far SW or close-in Beaverton. Especially if you served your own version of the Nutty Spaniard and/or had an old guy on an electric organ doing live karaoke.

On Saturday I went over to the Chief’s house and ended up accompanying him and the Bride to the dump. Ahh, nothing like a trip to the dump. Anyway, at the dump I helped him unload his trailer and while doing so stepped in a deep river of garbage water. Ahh, nothing like the feel and smell of garbage water, running between your toes. A lovely morning, really. As we were getting ready to leave the dump a shiny new black Hummer pulling a ginormous matching black custom trailer pulls in. The Hummer gets the trailer into position, and then somewhere a button is pushed. The trailer automatically opens and lifts up hydraulically like a dump truck. All the trash comes out with just a gravity assist, and then the Hummer moves forward and lowers the bed. What we learned on Saturday is that ~$125,000 will get you an excellent, 99th percentile-at-least type rig for going to the dump. The three of us were quite impressed, and I’m sure that was part of the point. I bet that guy has one hell of a set up for tailgating at football games. He’s probably a Duck.

We went home and dropped off the trailer and the Bride, and then the Chief and I took a journey out to the far reaches of Portland in search of meat. Meat was found. The good people at Gartners sold me six excellent steaks for later in the evening; I also picked up meat pack #5 for my extra freezer, plus a few other odds and ends as well. I spent enough to qualify for a free summer sausage as a thank you gift. It’s the size of a small baseball bat, but much tastier. If the only summer sausage you’ve ever had is Hillshire Farms, you owe it to yourself to get a hold of a good one. Once it hits yours lips it’s so good!

It was next decided that we should get some beer and lunch. Since we were out in the hinterlands we thought we’d try somewhere we’d never been before. Laurelwood Brewpub came to mind. We realized a ways into the trip from Gartners to Laurelwood that neither of us had the first goddamn idea where we were going. We almost never found the place, but we were lucky enough to experience a thorough and roundabout tour of the NE side of town before we got finally got to Laurelwood. Many thanks to those who helped us on our journey via cell phone and internet. Except you, Chief Photographer. You initially gave us the wrong address and created at least a 15 minute period of time where neither I nor the Educator was drinking beer. We don’t forget stuff like that. See you Sunday!

We made it to Laurelwood finally and spent some time sampling their tasty wares. Yummy/delicious on both the beer and the food side of things. One minor problem: I think they copied the pizza recipe from the Lucky Lab. Lucky Lab pizza has a documented effect on the CEO and several others; Laurelwood pizza dough had a similar effect. The air quality at HQ was not high later that evening.

Kjel.org hosted the CFO’s dad for a birthday dinner on Saturday; hence the special trip to purchase steaks. I BBQ’ed them in the rain on Saturday night. I think acid in the rainwater may have helped to tenderize the meat as it cooked, because those steaks were very tender.

If you want to call me Shelly or Michelle right now there is probably little I can do to stop you: I screwed up my right shoulder and wrist at some point over the weekend. How you say? Splitting firewood? Moving a piano? Ripping the door off an overturned and burning van on I-5 to save several orphans and a nun? Punching out hippies? No. I did it straining to open a too-tight lid on a baby bottle. Welcome to Wussville. Population: me.

Sunday I babysat pretty much all day. Three boys never took off their pajamas, but two at least got periodic diaper changes. Several movies were watched, most of them Pixar releases. I don’t really mind letting the Jr VP watch those Pixar movies more than would normally seem healthy. I was thinking about why I don’t the other day: turns out that upon further review I tend to like most of the messages in those movies and wouldn’t really mind if Stinky absorbed some of them. I like that the stories aren’t all disneyfied, and that the world is actually presented as containing both good and bad people and things, and that the former can overcome the later, but won’t always neccesarily. Most kids’ entertainment has hippie bullshit we-can-all-be-friends-and-get-along-if-only-we-could-be-more-open-minded-and-caring type messages snuck into it; Pixar movies don’t. There are real villains in real life. There are real villains in Pixar movies. A sucky but important lesson for kids to learn, and I respect the fact that Pixar doesn’t shy from it.

Then there is the whole adult-role-model thing that goes on in most Pixar films. Frederica Mathewes-Green might be a little overwrought in the snippet below, but that doesn’t make her any less correct:

Most kids’ entertainment is about kids. Pixar movies are about adults. They show children what adults are supposed to do — to be brave and self-sacrificing, to defend children even at risk to themselves, to give even in the face of ingratitude. This is wise because, after all, children aren’t going to remain children. Just as we encourage them daily to grow in the practical skills of adulthood, they’ll need these kind of skills too if they are going to be faithful, responsible spouses and parents.

Many kids sitting in theater seats don’t have a daddy like Nemo’s, who would go to the end of the ocean to save their lives. They don’t have a daddy like Dash and Violet’s, who can be crushed only by the thought that he has lost them, and whose strength rebounds instantly when he learns they need his help. These kids don’t have daddy-figures like Woody and Mike and Sullivan, who love and guard the children who enter their care. They don’t have a daddy like that, but one day they may be a daddy like that, or have a clear idea of the kind of future daddy they need to marry. If this is all that Pixar has done, it has done a most eminent thing.

Here is the Jr. VP pretending he is the “Bad Scuba Diver” in Finding Nemo. Note the dive mask and underwater camera. The CEO is “Nemo’s Daddy.”

Since TV has and will continue to play a nontrivial part in raising the lads, it’s probably for the better that they are watching Pixar movies instead of other dreck. Now when is South Park on again?

Finally, I saw something mind-bending the other night on the KGW news. A torch of some sort has been passed among certain members of the KGW news team. The last time I sighted a certain Chanel suit, snow was in the forecast. Last night snow was again in the forecast, and the pink Chanel suit again made an appearance. But it was not on Tracy Barry! She had lent the suit to Nancy Francis?! What does this mean? Is Nancy now doing her own homage to Marge Simpson? Has the suit become some sort of Portland snow tradition at KGW? My head is spinning. More than usual, I mean.

I’m giving the Chief Bride a ride home today from work. What she doesn’t know is that she is coming with me to pick up the lads at ’school’ before I take her to her house. Having a second adult to help me carry the 120 pounds of crap a certain two boys require to get through a week of ’school’ is gonna be nice and will more than make up for the very minor hassle of stopping to pick her up. Plus since I am going to hold hands with her as we walk out (and when greeting the lads refer to her as “your new Mommy”) it will give all the daycare ladies something new to gossip about.

If you look at only one other website today, make it this one: www.there-will-too-be-beer-pong-at-the-wedding-or-i-am-launching-a-boycott.org.

The latest couple to take the plunge:

Quite a catch, madam.

When I was getting lunch today the guy behind me in line was wearing a dark blue FBI t-shirt. The kid was an otherwise scruffy-hipster-looking-dufus, and for 1.5 seconds I was confused. Then I realized he was rocking the “Female Body Inspector” shirt that I remember so fondly from the 5th grade. My mom wouldn’t let me get one, even though it was so hysterical. If I could find the same shirt in a 4-T I’d buy one right now for the Jr. VP. That would be awesome, and I’m certain the CFO would approve. Certain.

That guy is the king. I should have bought his sandwich just for making my day by wearing that shirt. Next time.

Two of his mortal enemies learning how to work together. The Jr. VP is not gonna like this one bit:

Monkey’s Thoughts Propel Robot, a Step That May Help Humans
If Idoya could talk, she would have plenty to boast about. On Thursday, the 12-pound, 32-inch monkey made a 200-pound, 5-foot humanoid robot walk on a treadmill using only her brain activity. She was in North Carolina, and the robot was in Japan. It was the first time that brain signals had been used to make a robot walk, said Dr. Miguel A. L. Nicolelis, a neuroscientist at Duke University whose laboratory designed and carried out the experiment.

For the record, the Seattle Seahawks are not soley responsible for their loss against Green Bay on Saturday. The Chief Educator shares part of the blame: he jinxed them early. At 14-0 for Seattle early, that dumbass started to celebrate. I believe it’s over! came out of his mouth. The Chief Sniper picked up on the jinx immediately; I thought he was going to punch the Educator. In retrospect he probably should have.

I made the comment wow, it’s really coming down now! several times during the game. Every time they cut to commercial and then came back I swear it was snowing harder than before. Finally I quit saying it: I didn’t want to be known decades hence as the man responsible for the worst blizzard in Wisconsin history.

The CFO and I get along pretty well almost all of the time, and even when we don’t it is always a very temporary thing. It’s as if we had an “inevitable attraction” to each other . . .

Parted-at-birth twins ‘married’
A pair of twins who were adopted by separate families as babies got married without knowing they were brother and sister, a peer told the House of Lords. A court annulled the British couple’s union after they discovered their true relationship, Lord Alton said. The peer - who was told of the case by a High Court judge involved - said the twins felt an “inevitable attraction“.

One of my favorite moments involving the Chief Bride is the time that I busted out some quote from the movie Grease in front of her. She sat there just staring at me, eyes agape and jaw hanging slack. Her brain: I recognize the CEO in front of me. I recognize those words as a quote from Grease. But putting them together does not compute. You may not know this but the CEO has probably seen or at least heard the movie Grease more than 100 times. My sisters loved that stupid movie when they were kids and would put it on every single goddamn day when they got home from school, no matter what. Through no conscious choice of my own that movie has seeped into me, and I can probably quote every song lyric and most lines. Scary and disturbing I know. I get chills just thinking about it, and they’re multiplying.

The Bride, CFO, and some other ladies I think are going to the Grease Sing Along at Cinema 21 tonight. When I finally get sent to hell I imagine it will be quite similar. I hope they have fun though.

A certain Monster-Boy had a birthday party at the HQ a few days back.

All his pals were invited. The lad was happy. Here he is playing with fellow Seahawk fan cousin Chuckles.

The Jr. VP even got his troubled little brother to attend. The young’un has started running with a gang according to the Jr. VP; he’s vowed to straighten him out. Getting him to come to the party might have been a preliminary step in Jr’s plan. You can’t see it because of the coat but the little one went and got “THUG LIFE” (in Latin script) tatooed on his belly. I have a feeling he might regret that one as he gets a little older.

The lad loved his birthday party. He got to see all his friends, eat pizza and cake and ice cream, run and scream and be crazy, and then at the end of it get a bunch of presents. Not a bad day’s work. Now he asks me several times a day if tomorrow is his birthday again. It’s a good thing that a newly minted three year old has no concept of the word year or else I think Stinkboy would become very depressed.

A few pics from Christmas. First off is a young man who also owns his own Santa suit. Lucky boy:

Here is the Jr VP utilizing three Christmas presents at once: his doctor suit, his Spiderman pajamas, and his new digital camera. Quite a multi-tasker, that one.

I can’t believe that the Jr. VP is now three years old. I feel like he was born about 4 months ago. Hell, I feel like the AK was born the week before last. Anyway, Happy Birthday Stinkboy. You never really did give us any terrible-twos-type action; if you can make it through the threes without anything similar your dear old Dad would be much obliged.

Here is the lad after refusing to allow his mom to cut some meat off of a teri beef rib for him. This is about as close to the terrible twos as we got: No! I want the bones! He got no argument from me.

Dear Baby Jesus,

Thank you so much for your gifts to mankind of ibuprofin and gatorade. Not sure where the CEO would be this morning without them.

Thanks again Baby Jesus,

Your pal,

The CEO.