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The Super Yummy Delicious Hour

Okay okay! So I like to cook. May might kill me in my sleep tonight if I don't put up my cooking feature post. We've actually been planning it for months now and she's been awesome enough to even plan ahead and take pictures of some of the various meals I've concocted throughout our time together. But me....well, I procrastinate. A lot. Really, I wonder how I ever get anything done.

But here I am and I'm writing something for the blog. I'm not exactly sure which recipe I'm going to put up, but I am sure that we'll both know it when I get there. ;)

I'm not so sure how I'm going to proceed with my feature yet, either. That's all part of my process, though. *Yeah, that sounds good...let's go with that* I'm thinking I'll just put out random recipes of things we've eaten lately. I know, 'sounds' super exciting...but I promise it will be! ;) We eat awesome stuff at the compound. In fact, you might say that our house has the best meals you can find in all of Compoundia. I frequently cook for the compoundian society's elite. ;p

I've been at a minor disadvantage, though. Our oven broke and, in protest, I've stopped using it. At first I wasn't so enthusiastic about the idea. I like to use my oven. It makes me feel warm inside. It makes me feel warm outside, too, but that's only good in the winter. I wasn't a stranger to my slow cooker, but up until now I'd really only ever used it to cook roasts & chickens, never anything complicated. I'd always mooned over the many recipes I have that require a deep fryer, too, but unfortunately I'd never owned one. But as circumstance would have it, right around the time my oven broke down my mom gave me her old deep fryer(*and when I say old, I mean it. I lived with this woman for 17 years and I never even knew we owned it!*). So that opened up a whole new aspect in cooking for me. I may be without oven at the moment, but I've used this experience to expand my cooking horizons by making better use of the tools available to me and not 'relying' on my traditional method of preparing food.

Recently, the governing body of Compoundia has been favouring my Home Made-Ish Taquitos. I made this dish in honor of Karloff's love of Mexican food and it has quickly become a national favourite, or "craze" if you will. It very simple to prepare and the recipe is very flexible. I say it's home made-ish because I'm not going to bother to cook a roast when I can buy one pre-cooked and because I'm not going to make flour tortillas (May does it better anyway). It's also nice if you can get a Tex-Mex shredded cheese mix. Like I said, though...the meal is very flexible so you could use any kind of cheese you'd like, I imagine. Just make sure to pick a cheese that will stand up to some melting and isn't going to go all weird if you heat it up too much.

So you'll need - that's right, you guessed it - a deep fryer for this recipe! I feel a little guilty inside right now because I think of all that time that I didn't have a deep fryer and wanting to try so many recipes that needed one and feeling crappy about it. I hope I'm not making anyone else feel like that right now. Awww! I'm sorry! Don't cry, I'll make you taquitos! I can send them to you by mail....

Okay, no really though...you start off by marinating the meat. It depends on what kind of meat you have, I guess. For beef I'd use some marinating steaks (y'know, the really thin ones) cut up into very thin fajita-like strips, poke some holes in them and let them sit in some kind of spicy marinade. I'd do this for a minimum of an hour before you cook them, but the more time they marinade the more flavour the meat will have. If you don't have a marinade you can add hot sauce to your meat once it's cooked. Of course, you can marinade cooked meat as well. In point of fact, I prefer to use shredded roast chicken in a Club House Tex-Mex marinade. It's just a spice you add to the chicken along with some oil and vinegar, but nineteen out of twenty Helens agree - it makes a big difference!

That's pretty much all the preparation you need. Turning on the deep fryer helps since things don't seem to cook so fast when it's off. Putting the taquitos together is easy. You put a little bit of meat and cheese and the edge of one of the tortillas, roll it into a tight...ummm...roll(for lack of a better word)...and keep it rolled tight by using some toothpicks. Don't put too much into the tortilla initially or it won't roll up tight. When you're done rolling the taquito use a little more meat to stuff the each end. That way all the deliciousness won't be localized at the center of the taquito and all parts of the taquito will be enjoyable. You won't loose any cheese when you put it in the deep fryer, either. Just make sure it's packed kind of tight or else it will come out when you cook it. When they're ready stick them in the deep fryer and cook them until they're golden brown then take them out and let them drain on some paper towel. I think I usually cook them at 400o, but I don't really trust the temperature gauge on my deep fryer so I always just turn it all the way up until I know it hot. Since I'm never actually sure of exactly how hot my deep fryer is, I can't judge cooking times so I always just have to watch it until it looks ready. Fortunately, deep fryers don't really take very long to cook anything, so it's never too much of a problem.

Once they've cooled you can cut them in half and serve them with various sauces for dipping. I like to have a variety on hand that includes salsa, sour cream, guacamole, and a chipotle-honey sauce that I like to make. Okay, okay...don't be such a bug, I'll tell you how to make it...
Take a bbq-sauce(pretty much any will do) and add some liquid honey, lemon juice, hot sauce, and chipotle powder. Ta-da! You can get creative and add garlic, onion, or Cayenne pepper, too. I never really worry about measuring things out exactly when making sauces, though. Add everything to taste! ;p

So, like I said..easy as pie. Actually, much easier than pie. Pie requires an oven.

So I can tell that the format for this feature is going to have to change somewhat. I'm sure I could somehow make this all look much better, but this is a start, isn't it?! :) *lol* I just realized that my first cooking feature doesn't have a picture! Funny considering how many pictures of my meals I happen to have. Oh well...I'm sure I can get one. You'll all just have to wait.

As a final side note, I have decided to name my feature The Super Yummy Delicious Hour. This is in homage to my favourite video game. *Wonder if anyone knows what I'm talking about?* I was initially going to call the post "Craptastic - Things I Make At Home!" but May and Karloff didn't think it would help our readership. *Maybe I was just in a bad mood* ;)

Thus Spake Spidey-boy

I was digging through some of my writing odds and ends and I came across these quotations from Spidey-boy, circa 2007 (age 4), that I'd jotted down:

Karloff: “He’s always afraid of pulling up his zipper.”
May: “Ya, well, he doesn’t want to hurt his willy, I can understand that.”
Spidey-Boy: “If I zip up my wiwwy, I’ll get a robot wiwwy.”

Some other time:

Spidey-boy: “I’m trying to decide which one of you will bring my lunch upstairs. Whichever you does it the fastest is the strongest.”
Karloff: “Uh, are you trying to fool us into bringing up your dishes?”
Spidey-boy: “Yes.”
Karloff: "..."
Spidery-boy: “You’ll win a prize pack!”

scarlet motivation

Inspired by Laurie's post over on Chimaera Contemplations, but with little time in my work day to follow any sort of structured rules or quibbling about making sense, I've decided to create my own religion-related motivational poster out of one of my favourite biblical passages:

People not to take relationship advice from

Last Friday's Exchange

Brownorangestripe, his gnarled orangutan fingers shuffling along a supporting branch, ascended with his two doe eyed charges. The exchange had been brief and for the most part pleasant, despite the unexplained presence of Loudfartsmallturd, one of his brood mates.

Still, Speaksoffood lingered a moment watching the two little ones fade into the treetop greenery. Finally, placing a hand on her belly, swollen with a sibling for the adventuring youths, she began shuffling over the stony ground towards the river and the rest of her clan.

With a glance towards the canopy where Brownorangestripe had disappeared, Loudfartsmallturd brought himself to his full height and let loose a staccato series of grunts at Speaksoffood, ending in a jungle stilling shriek.




“Lupatria!” The interloper cried, stepping from the pillared courtyard, his toga flaring as he exited the arch’s shadow into the wind of the street.




The plain was empty, Jude’s yell having vacated it of even bird song. Marion braced on the wooden bench and held what grip she had on the horses, muttering in soothing tones as Penny worked at lashing their harnesses. Thomas turned a fierce eye on Jude, but at a word from Penny, kept his position in the wagon.

After a moment Jude moved forward and once again began his trumpeting.

“Ya’ll figure you can run this show?”

“I have no interest in this conversation, Jude.”

“You think you can just get what you want!?”

Penny’s hands goaded the rawhide into place.

“You hear me, harlot?”

“This ain’t going to make the judge see any different, Jude, and this sure ain’t helping Joseph in the least.”

“You keep this up, Harlot, and somethin’s gonna happen!” Jude shouted.

The horses bucked and a rag doll, which Elizabeth must have left on the wooden bench, tumbled to the ground. Jude moved forward, but Thomas, with a calming word to Penny, stood down from the wagon.





I step from the car and BabyDaddy’s brother slams the door.

“Thanks?” I say, bending over to retrieve the spilled Yu-Gi-Oh! cards.

Having collected them, I pull the door open against the resistance of the interloper’s thigh. Opopanax, having finished depositing the kid’s car seats in the trunk, returns and props herself within the door’s arc to prevent its closing.

“You think you’re so smart, you won’t get away with this, things are going to get a lot harder from here on, things are going to happen.” He rants.

Opopanax waves me into the car, but for a moment I beg off.

“What? What exactly is going to happen?” I ask.
After a moment without an answer, I re-ask.
Still no response, and at a second coaxing from Opopanax I take my place in the backseat of our two-door hatchback.

Opopanax settled in and closed the door while BD’s brother assailed us with a storm of “cunts”, still unable to come up with any sort of meaningful dialogue beyond shouting down a pregnant woman through her car window.

It is then that he realized that May had located Opop’s phone and was capturing the altercation on video. His hand shot through the gap, clutching for the phone, even managing to briefly ensnare it. Opopanax moved quickly though, snatched back the phone before it cleared the car and transfered it to her distant hand. Eventually she was forced to toss it into the back seat.

Realizing his losing battle, BD’s brother changed tact. Locking his fingers around Opop's wrist he attempted to drag her out the half-open window.

Wrenching free of his grip, she urged May to exit the driveway. Reversing to the outer most cusp, we were held by oncoming traffic. BD’s brother took position in front of the car, a chorus of adjectives stapled to his repeated mantra of “cunt” breaking up long verses of threat against our persons and property.



For a moment Marion considers cracking the reins.



Finally, there’s a break and we slide into the flow of traffic. Taking stock, we regroup and make our appeal to the authorities.

The 7th Compoundian National Address

Here is the next show for your listening pleasure!

And!

Included is our first ever audio comment! It's from our Interweb friend Bamboo Blitz. You should check out her blog. And look, I have provided you the said link for your viewing ease.
I can't get over the quality of her comment though lol! Great voice, great content, naturally entertaining. Yum! We need to put her on the payroll.

If you would like to send us an audio comment, please email your audio clips to paxcompoundia@gmail.com.

Also, for those of you waiting on Opopanax's cooking feature, you can send your audio complaints there as well. :p

the saddish future of youtubery

I suspect we'll be seeing a lot more of this in the future.

More information available where I originally found the video, on boingboing.

expelled

Expelled * Expelled * Expelled

Have you heard about that craptacular movie Expelled?
I'm just helping out with a little blogswarm.

Daisy's Doctor Doom Discussion

Daisy recently had a post collecting a number of opinions about Doctor Doom's bout of misogyny, and I thought I'd throw in a few random thoughts.

It's unfair to say that everything out of Victor Von Doom's mouth has been brilliant, far too many writers have shuffled him around for that, but: when the character goes off on a rant you should be able to expect the dialect of a modern caricature of an English feudal-era noble, not a fourteen year old The Hills junkie with mother issues.

Doom is a dick, sure, and growing up in the unenlightened nation of Latvia he may have picked up some antediluvian notions about women, but what if he'd said to Ms. Marvel:

"Slattern, I'll trade you to Azneka's Bordello for an afternoon ride if you do not heed my words."

Still misogynistic, but at least in character.

How about:

"Until recently you've only been remembered as the Shazam knock off whom Rogue stole her powers from."

Ouch. It hurts so much more because its true, and it doesn't have to descend into second-grader gender politics.


Doom's character hasn't stayed popular for forty years by lowering himself to useless invective or utilizing the mode of speech stylistic to the time, otherwise when he fought KISS you'd have gotten a whole lot of:

"Boss leather pants, jerkwads."

Lets face it, you can't take that villian seriously ten years later.

More info on Dr. Doom Vs Kiss, as well as the surrounding panels for the image I used, can be found at ferret press.

A Present From Nacho

I know very little about Von. Apparently he appeared on Maury, which, not having cable, I wasn't even aware was still on.



It may help if you occasionally mentally add "and meth."

Egypt Sends Five Homosexual's To Prison

I was over at the Yahoo News, and I found an article detailing the sentencing of 5 convicted homosexuals. 4 out of these 5 were tested positive for HIV. It is insinuated that this is a ploy to crack down on those diseased, using homosexuality as the disguise. Not a very good one.

They have no law against homosexuality, just obscure jargon like, laws against obscenity and debauchery. Much is left to the discretion of the court.

In addition to their prison time, the men were sentenced to an additional three years of police supervision, meaning they will have to spend every night at a police station, from 6 p.m. to 6 a.m., the lawyer said.

Ramadan said the four HIV-positive defendants were shocked by their convictions.

"Two of them cried, screamed and shrieked," he said. "The other two, they remained silent, but I saw anger in their eyes for the injustice they have been exposed to."

Ramadan said he appealed the verdict to Egypt's Court of Cassation, the country's highest appellate court.

The convictions were confirmed by a judicial official, who spoke on condition of anonymity because he was not authorized to talk to journalists.

I can attest to Egypt's beauty and kind people (And their constant beeping horns). When religion rules a land, when tradition and law are more important than the civil liberties of it's people, they are completely missing the point. At least mine :)

New Shows for Download!

Here are the next two episodes of the Compoundian National Address

At the end of 6 I did something I little different this time. What do you think???

Send your audio comments to paxcompoundia@gmail.com

UPDATE: My apologies.. Karloff couldn't keep still and it was picked up on the mic. A new sound card is coming so the quality should get another hike up in clarity. Though, I can't promise anything in regards to Karloff's Restless Leg Syndrome.

Do, Re, Meme

Hey, so...wow! Bamboo Blitz tagged us with this meme quite a while back. I haven't been much of a presence on the site lately, so I've taken it upon myself to answer this challenge...

Here goes -

26-Random Alphabetical Facts About Myself

A - My given name starts with this letter (I've always chosen to use my second rather than first name)
B - I'm having a *baby* ;)
C - My cat's name is Cat
D - I hate our dog, Deliah
E - My little girl's initials are "eek"
F - I just designed a fairy-wing tatoo for my beautiful wife, May
G - I have *not so lovingly* nicknamed my monster *ahem*...mother "Gamera"
H - Havarti is my favourite of all cheeses (particulary the dill variety) ;p
I - Ice cream just isn't as good to me as it used to be :(
J - Jesus Christ Superstar is one of my favourite movies
K - KHAN!!!!!!
L - I'm a Leo
M - Mother is just smother without the "s"...
N - Ninjabox is a nickname Karloff & May gave me when I was moving out of my ex's place. My boxes were so inconspicously packed they were like ninja-boxes!
O - The name Opopanax came from Black House, a book by Stephen King and Peter Straub
P - My cat's middle initial. And yes, he does have a middle initial.
Q - I refuse to acknowledge this letter. It is dead to me.
R - This is how I always picture pirates talking. "Rrrrr! I do be a pirate! Rrrr..."
S - I single-handedly freed the Scottish people from their evil oppressors in a savage and bloody campaign against the foreign English crown. Okay...I made that one up.
T - Three heads are better than one!
U - The United States scares me just a little...
V - I'm terrified of moving at any great velocity.
W - I want to name my baby Wolfgang!
X - Marxxx - Triple X Communist Porn!
Y - Why not?
Z - Zoo TV was my favourite U2 tour.

So...that sums me up. Hope it was enlightening for everyone involved. I'd like to thank my family and Jesus for making this all possible.

I guess I'll tag Daisy, if she hasn't done it already.:)

Not Even Pseudo-Mormon

From an article entitled "Woman Describes Escape From Polygamy" on msnbc:

“I think it’s a form of pedophilia hiding behind a religion as a protection,” Carolyn Jessop told TODAY’s Matt Lauer from Salt Lake City on Tuesday. “There’s just a desire to control and manipulate and torture people, and religion is just used as the cover.”

As well as:

“Everything you did was monitored and controlled and everybody reported on everyone else,” she said. “It was a police state. You were not allowed to make decisions in your life. I had no power over my life or the lives of my children. It was a terrible way to live.”

The alleged control began in infancy.

“The method he would use with infants was a form of water torture,” Jessop said of her former husband. “He would spank the baby until it was screaming out of control, and then he would hold the baby faceup under a tap of running water so it couldn’t breathe. He would do this repeatedly. Sometimes, it would go on for an hour, until the baby was so exhausted it couldn’t cry anymore. This method he called ‘breaking them.’”

I have no idea what Carolyn Jessop, (who must be a very strong, brave lady to have escaped a bunch of demented control nuts,) actually thinks about polygamy, as she never talks about it in the article. She mentions torture, pedophilia and mental abuse under the guise of religious conformity, but doesn't mention polygamy, negatively or positively, once during the article.

Wouldn't a more honest phrasing have been "Woman Describes Escape From Abusive Religious Sect"? Not enough shock value? How about "Woman Describes Escape From Pedaphilic Torturers"? If you don't like the adjectives in those, try it old school: "Woman Describes Escape From Cult".

Maybe I'm just being a bit sensitive, but it seems to me it might be just as accurate to have the headline read: "Woman Describes Escape From Typhlobasiacs".

Margaret Cho's Donut Pussy

For some women, having internal orgasm is next to impossible. Let's just say a friend of mine suffers from the same downer.

I found this blog entry by Margaret Cho and had to share it!

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

I had a new procedure called the "G-Shot," which is kind of like plastic surgery, kind of a body modification – but you don’t see it. It is on the inside. It isn’t something I would necessarily normally do, because I am very happy with my vagina the way it is. It is one of the finest in the world, and really needs little embellishment. It has served me well for many years and there are lots of miles left on it.

I got the G-shot as part of my new VH1 show, "The Cho Show," which I am filming right now and it is so fucking awesome you are going to just scream when you see it – I am so excited! Anyway, the G-Shot is an injection of collagen into your G-Spot that is supposed to enhance any kind of stimulation there. It is for women who have limited sensation in their vagina, which is me. My puss is more clitoral than vaginal. I am more into the outside than the inside. I am more about display than content. Whenever I go to a party, I tend to hang out on the steps rather than in the house and I never go into the backyard. And to keep the party analogy going, I don’t even have a G-Spot, per say, one place where the party is all centered, but there are lots of smaller events happening all over the area. Mine isn’t a G-Spot. More like a G-Block Party. My pussy is a lot like Coachella. There are a lot of bands hanging around waiting to play.

So I got it done at a fancy Beverly Hills gyno office and it was somewhat uncomfortable. First the G-Spot must be located. The poor doctor had to poke around in there for a long time, and it reminded me of this one guy who was looking for it many years ago, all thumbs in there going "Where’s your spot? Where’s your spot?" It didn’t feel good and I was like, "uh, I usually park on the street." The doctor came upon an area that felt more sensitive than the other areas (more partying going on there than elsewhere) so she shot up that region with an anesthetic – which was painful!! I needed anesthesia for my anesthesia! It was so prickly and hurting that she had to shoot me up twice with the numbing agent. Then they got the big needle out, which I didn’t feel but looked so scarily long that I thought the end might poke out through my back! OW!!!!

So since then, I haven’t felt any sexual enhancement at all. If anything it makes me not want to do it, which is incredible because I always want to do it – so it doesn’t work as any kind of aphrodisiac, but would be a good punishment for sex offenders. Now my vagina just feels like there is a gel insole in there. Like my cervix is wearing boot socks. I am totally asexual and I feel like I am sitting on a hemorrhoid donut all the time. I really feel kind of bad complaining about the procedure, because the doctor was so nice, and I am all about supporting anything that benefits women and their sexuality. I totally think that the spirit of the thing is cool. Women should feel good in their bodies and if surgery can enhance that, I am all for it. Unfortunately, the G-Shot just wasn’t for me, but it might be for you. There are lots of raves from women about it, and more often than not the results are supposed to be mind blowing, just not for me!


It lasts for four months so I will be at the convent until the swelling goes down.

Thoughts?

Home

Karloff and I just back from a trip up North. The first trip since the bomb. It was a huge rush getting ready and going, because of the short notice. Karloff's Grandfather died. He was a beautiful man. Completely content, silly, and happily married. A series of strokes took part of him away. And then a cold, turned flu, to pneumonia. His body couldn't fight it.

We really wanted to whole clan to go. But, my mother, the sponsor of the trip thought it best if we go alone. Other than his very immediate family, the rest are unaware of our family structure.

The drive was about 7 hours or so. We stopped rarely as to make the visitation that evening. We got into town, made it into the hotel, changed, and were back out to meet everyone at the funeral home. We went in and exchanged hugs with all appropriate and looked at pictures of our beloved in his personal moments. They captured him well though. Even included were photos of the carpentry projects he had around his home.

We skipped out when it was time and grabbed food at the local truck stop and made our way back to our room.

The next day was filled with visits to our older family and a meal with Karloff's mom and stepfather and sister and sisters fiance. Not to mention the funeral in the middle. Oh yeah, AND driving back home. The service was nice. I guess. The Pastor made the usual mistakes with names of important family members. But after, everyone was offered to speak of something they loved about him. That was the most touching part.

After the service was over I made my way to his widow and we shared tears and my hopes that she is OK and my wishing I could stay and insure her comfort. Then, following good byes, we hopped in the car and rushed back to Opop.

Uh

Someone close to us, but particularly Karloff, has died recently.

Please be patient. And expect more shows early next week.

I hate snow.

There are many reasons for which I am hating on this frosty season. We have 40cm of snow. And that was after my plow yesterday. I NEED to go to the store. I'm locked out of the world by a vast tower of snowy hell. Ok, so it's been a few days and I'm getting antsy. Even The Godfather (next door neighbour) got his lane plowed today by a tractor. And he is supposed to be covering our snow removal!

Luckily Karloff is coming out shortly with me and we will be digging our way to the end of the road. Our lane is a giant crescent, a lovely yard in the middle with old maple trees. Lovely in the summer, but with 40cm of snow, I hate you.

In brighter news, here's the next show!



***UPDATE*** 49cm of snow :(

The cholas are calling me.........

I have found myself on three separate occasions searching out this very video. It's a scientific observation of the "Chola"; where they can be found, and how you to can baptised in the ways of the Chola. Kidding. Really, it's silly and there is monstrously bad grandma rapping. But that's as good as scientific discovery in my book.


It's amazing when I think about how North Americans get their identity. It almost seems like a caricature of stereotyped ethnic behaviours. But it's hilarious. And I'm not judgin'. If you're a Chola, embrace it :p Pick up that eye liner and rub that shit round those intentionally plumped bare naked lips!




The following video is from AskAChola.com.

It's a pretty funny site with lots of content, including blog, video, and podcast. The video has cholaless, but nonetheless hilarious fun.

Audio editing is the devil

We have a few new shows up. We are looking for an audio player that we can put individual shows on, without a drop down and other various other boring things. But until then, this will have to do :)

And in other EXCITING news! We bought the domain and hosting for paxcompoundia.com! When the transplant is complete, you will be the first to know.

The First Compoundian National Address

Our podcast is up now! Long promised and finally here for your listening pleasure!

I'm having issues with Audacity (arg) so I'm still working on getting the second and third show up later today.

For comments and questions for the show, contact paxcompoundia@gmail.com

stitch in time

I think these knitted batgirl gloves are sexy, and this knitted Leia wig is hella cute.

I need to get back to knitting actually, as my Tom-Baker-as-Doctor-Who scarf will not knit itself. (Despite my pleas.)

Beirut - Postcards from Italy

Molly Nix Chapter 1: The Insomniac, Part 2

Hey, little late, but here's the second instalment of my Molly Nix pulp serial, once again in both text and audible format thanks to the lovely reading voice of Opopanax. This time around there's also a little theme music, provided by the lovely May, which I thought a great fit with the radio pulp of the same period I'm hovering around. Whee.



[previously: Chapter 1: The Insomniac, Part 1]

(More information on the audio version is available here.)

Molly Nix,

Chapter 1: The Insomniac, Part 2

The Admin building was built to look like a cattle barn from the air, and I was starting to feel a little like I was off to slaughter as I stepped inside. It was the one building that housed people who could and would tell me my business, and I tried to spend as little time as possible there.

The main hallway ran straight the length of the building, and a trick of the eye and the tiling made the far door seem as tiny as something Alice might stumble across. I walked the maroon, black and gray linoleum, passing office name cards, work orders, staff postings, funny page clippings, and finally taking a right into the den. Schwerdtfeger and Able had standard issue offices elsewhere in the barn, but after hours visits were largely fireside announcements from overstuffed chairs.

The room was smaller than their combined pretenses would allow, and I’d always felt like I was trying to find a corner in which to stand between Schwerdtfeger’s stuffed animal heads, and Able’s shelves of economic treatises and textbooks.

“Well, hello, Ms. Nix.” Able opened, obviously trying to get a rise out of me.

“Well, hello, Madam Able.” Able’s eyes and forehead tightened, but I did notice a rise in Schwerdtfeger’s moustache.

“If you’ll keep your jocular nature to a minimum for a moment, we need to have a quick chat before you take flight, Mrs. Nix.” Schwerdtfeger’s attitude had me wondering if Tom had been right, if this might be a virus after all.

“I’ll see what I can do.” I replied, shuffling under the watchful eyes of some long dead five point buck.

“Aunt Millie called this morning. There’s a shack just south of the permafrost line, vaguely near a town called Milner, a lumber town. There are five bodies in the shack, all stiff at their porridge. The doctor on the scene said they died of dehydration, which is odd given that they all still had the remnants of milk in their cups. We don’t know how long they’d been there, but they’re fairly well preserved as the door was open and the main room helpfully refrigerated. The doctor is not sick, nor anyone else in the area.”

“Couldn’t it have been food poisoning? Hell, maybe even an old fashioned murder?” Despite the lack of outbreak, it was all sounding a little too virus-like for me. I tried to move a little but found myself bracketed in front of the door with a shelf full of Adam Smith and his ilk to the left of me and a small pack of beheaded mammals to my right.

Schwerdtfeger glanced at Able, and Able picked up where he’d left off.

“It’s possible. You’ll have to endeavour to find out when you get there. I believe Junior has the plane fueled and ready to go. You’ve got your usual budget, Junior will fly back with your first round of samples and then pick you up at the end of your five day window. When you touch down you’ll head alone into Milner, there you will locate Constable Lummock and he shall direct you to the cabin in question.”

In other words he didn’t want to pay Junior for sitting on his ass doing nothing for a few days, especially not when I might need some company or backup, that cheap bastard.

Then I was dismissed. I was pleased to be back in the hall, but this had easily been the briefest meeting on the flimsiest circumstances I’d had while in King’s employ.

The snow and wind blew away my train of thought as I exited to find Junior still patrolling the ash can.

“You know where we’re headed?”

“Yeah, more or less,” he replied with a grin. “Is it just me or were they acting weird, uh, …er than usual?”

I took in Junior’s grin and ridiculous leather flight cap, his good hand holding the cigarette he now smoked like a train before our departure.

“If you ask me, you’re all acting weird.”

I missed my wife and husband.

The farm dwindled to speck as we puttered across the black sky in the farm’s single engine cloud buster. It had been modified for long flights, but I honestly couldn’t tell the difference between that one and the crates the bush pilots would drop into Mom & Dad’s lodge.

It wasn’t long before the hum of the plane, and a forward looking sense of self preservation, lulled me to sleep. I found myself dreaming about climbing the massive timbers of the lodge walls, over the gutters and onto equal footing with the swaying treetops. The lake lay blue and infinite in front of me, and my head cocked to better hear an approaching mosquito buzz. A plane shimmered out of the distance, wobbling at first, but soon righting itself and settling into a landing that left its pontoons kissing the shore. The sound of the motor died, and the pines rustled. The wind seemed to smell of gin. I wondered if Dad was around. It was then that I noticed the windows of the plane were black as tar.

Our descent woke me. In those days we pulled up short of habitation and had a local friend meet us with a car if we could, no reason to make the townies think the Germans were launching an expeditionary force. The area was far too small for us to know anyone though, and Junior explained that they’d paid a local for his old Model A, to be delivered to the middle of nowhere beside a stretch of barren back road that they’d paid the same farmer to plow flat. Our landing depended on his work ethic and Junior’s ability to read the plane’s instruments, but we were soon down and not far from my ride.

The car, a Fordor, looked relatively well for its age but had been left at the road side so long it initially refused to turn over. I had my flash light out and was looking over the engine when Junior spoke from somewhere over my shoulder.

“Trouble?”

“I think I can get her straightened out, the cold is just making things stiff.”

I think he muttered some kind of response, but I was too busy tinkering. Suddenly his face loomed beside the manifold and I.

“Ignoring me?” His breath was a solid wall of gin, too thick to have been built since we’d touched down. I was glad the wind had waited to pick up. Still, it must have been a tricky landing given the conditions.

“I’m just busy. I thought you were pitching camp?”

“I’ve got a fire going, but my tent is still waiting.” He seemed to be expecting something.

“Well, that’s something at least, I’m going to need to boil some water to get out of here.”

The fire was burning within the L of the wing of the plane, and I knew Junior would set up his tent right under the flap as some minor added protection. I pulled the kettle from its storage compartment, stuffed it full of snow and placed it directly onto the burning logs, pocketing its detachable handle.

If he’d previously taken drink on the job to wait out the periods while I was off exploring, he’d never let me see it. My black overcoat created a cone of heat around me as I stooped close to the fire, one eye watching Junior pound in the last of his tent pegs.

“There should be some left over for coffee.” I said, nodding towards the kettle.

“Listen, Molly,” he attempted to mirror my crouch, but between wind and drink ended up in a position closer to reclining in the snow. “We’ve been working together for a while now, a long time really. We’ve spent a lot of long hours around campfires and card tables and… remember the first year you came to the farm, when we had that Christmas dance? Remember that dance?” He’d asked me to dance, and both AJ and Tom had smiled their assent. We’d had a stiff swing around the floor, and I’d spent the majority of the time silently and sweetly damning my two loves for letting me leave the table. I’m not much of a dancer.

“Do you know something about this piece of work that I don’t? “ The kettle was beginning to whistle, feasibly through the sheer force of my will. I pulled the handle from my pocket and lifted it from its now sunken position.

“Heh, no.” His face darkened though, which I took to mean he’d been struck by a flash of sobriety. He fell silent and after a moment I moved out of fire’s circle.

I was right, and a little hot water quickly had the car turned over and ready for the road. I was playing my flashlight through the backseat’s window, mentally checking off everything I’d collected from the plane, when I felt a hand reach through the gap between my overcoat’s brass buttons and run its fingers across my belly. I breathed a mist of gin as I turned, my elbow hammering Junior just below his right eye. He reeled, his hand slipping from my coat, and it was then that my boot connected with his left knee. His balance went out and he collapsed into a tangled jelly. To ensure closure I made a final connection with his diaphragm, firmly but not excessively, just as I’d been taught. While he fish puckered for air I dragged him back under the shelter of the plane wing.

“Look you drunken arse, we’ll have a talk about this when I get back tomorrow, but you better get your shit together or I’m going to hand it to you myself.”

He wheezed from his pile beside the fire, and I made my way back to the car.

The road was full of drifts, and it took some time and patience to finally make my way north into town. There was little warning between leaving the woods and entering the town proper, one minute I was keeping an eye out for wolves and the next I was pulling to a stop in front of a squat gray brick building, a single light visible in its large window. It was a meager main street, the police having easily the largest front on the road, the rest of the buildings dark in what was by then the earliest part of morning.

I stepped out and made my way around the hood, eyes straining through the large window to make out a pair of desks. I was wondering if I’d have to awaken Constable Lummock with a thorough door pounding when the entrance in question swung open. A large form lumbered from the doorway shouting harsh, unintelligible consonants back into the warmth. He turned and seemed un-phased to find me in his path on the stoop, passed with a curt nod and made his way further into the subzero dark beyond the building’s meager light.

She What?!

Currently I am without mother-in-law. That status won't change for a while, I think. She's pretty mad at me. She sends lovely notes to Karloff asking him to bring him self and Jr. for a visit. Karloff is of the thinking that it's all of us or none of us. Yet she asks, and just ignores the fact that there are other parts of his family here that are being blatantly disregarded.

My mother is of the thinking that it's Karloff's fault and all of this poly business is just so Karloff and Opop can run away together. Utter nonsense. So what does my mother do? She invites the in laws down for Easter. We didn't even know until ma'-in-law told Karloff that she wasn't coming. Imagine that. Mother thinks it would be a safe place Karloff and his family to see each other. Safe? What does that mean? I blew up at mom once through out their discovery of our lifestyle. But she is painting this picture that I am drugged out on antidepressants and lacking all empathy for everyone who truly loves me. Arg. Her mind has made me out to be something I'm not. I can't force her to see reality.

What if we got into who's 'fault' it was and they start granny beating each other.


It isn't relevant how it started. And if they wanted the real answer, it was a mutual discovery. It was a series on discussions over a period of time. No one wanted it more than another. Reality is, we are here now, and intervention or not, it isn't a sickness. There are no hidden intentions, just love and partnership each way.

At least when we speak now, ma and I, she waits for a response to her questions and truly listens. That's something, right? RiGhT?! *laughs nervously*

Squee

From xkcd.

Baby Daddy Debacle '08

So we got up yesterday. Early. We dropped the kids off next door until the bus came for school. We arrive at the court house with little time to spare. We go to information and get directed to our court room. We saw our lawyer along the way and he informed us that we had another fifteen minutes before court started. No sign of BD. We find a spot to sit, eyeing down the hallway to spot him out. We guess which is the opposing lawyer with a slight scowl.

Time to head in to see the judge and NO BD!? Yeah, we think, one for us. We step in to a very small room lined with robed lawyers. I sat seperately from the tribe as there was little seating. As we rose and sat again, our lawyer was whispering to his lawyer and scribbling down on a piece of paper. Opop signed the scribble and our lawyer began to speak to the judge with the opposing lawyer. Everything was in law speak and it was over in 2 minutes. BD will send us documents we've requested, or make his "best efforts" to find the documents. And access will remain status quo until the appointment of the children's laywer. We have opposing views with BD just as to what status quo is. He thinks he gets every weekend, but since late last year we have been taking one weekend a month and week days.

Our lawyer said to call him up and simply state that we are taking a weekend as per the agreement we made before this shite all started. So that's what Opop did last night. She asked why he wasn't in court because the judge asked if he was present. He said he was sick. But that he would like to speak to the littlin' over the weekend. Pretty easy.

So now we sit on our hands for 6 to 8 weeks to even know if we are having a visit. And then, it's months apparently before we get someone over here. No doubt cookies will be baking, a roaring fire in the hearth, and sweet music playing in the back ground. With our doggies away and children at play. They will fall in love with us, as does everyone else who comes to this merry land of Compoundia.

Ontario's First Family Day

Today in Ontario we had our first ever Family Day. We do not have nearly enough statutory holidays lol.

What does one do on this Family Day? We incorporated some of the kids favorite things. We started it off with lunch from McDonald's. What is it with kids and McDonald's. I'm not completely sold that it is because of the accompanying toy because after five minutes it's forgotten.


After lunch we headed outside for a winter fire, lovingly set ablaze by yours truly. Kids didn't pay much attention at first. Sledding down hills of snow left by the plowman peeked their interest more. But after a while they would run up to the adults warming by the fire to do the same. And then off they were again, squealing and giggling. Every so often hearing one trying to convince the other, once and for all, that they are indeed the queen or king of the castle :p

Once getting off our zillions of layers and damp boots, we started the kettle for hot chocolate and prepared a craft. They were cute little window sun catchers. I painted a Cardinal :)

After a supper of my (becoming) famous cheesy spaghetti the kids got back to their business and we to ours. I, working on the Molly Nix theme, found it very frustrating I couldn't get the sound quality right for your all. But that's news for another day.

First Family Day down, can't wait for the next. But honestly, that's what our days look like our here on the Compound. I hope they are always this happy.

But I Wanna Hate Nazis!

I was reading the comments on Karloff's Indiana Jones post and although I have to admit I want to believe too....I'm a little disappointed with the lack of Nazis in the film.

Sure the soviets are cool bad guys....but why can't we hate on the nazis anymore?

Just look at the new Lego Indiana Jones game! They've decided to wipe out any reference to Nazis and replace them with an "anonymous genocidal, occultist, trenchcoat-wearing master-race." What really bugs me, though, is that the lego game is supposed to be reminiscent of the lego starwars games (ie. a lego recap of the three movies). Now, I ask you this...how can you recap the Indy movies without Nazis?!

Well, I know I can sleep better at night knowing that I haven't had to think about *real* bad guys today (?!wtf?!)



Anyone remember the Metal Slug games? Sure, they were a no-name brand evil regime...but everyone knew who they really were! NAZIS! (Okay, so the boss guy was a little "Saddam-esque"...but the rest of them basically just stepped right out of the Third Reich!)

Remember when it was accepted? When it was funny to make an anti-Nazi joke? You can't get much cooler than the Blues Brothers...and they hate Illinois Nazis!



So really, what's the world coming to when you can't even hate Nazis?

The Onion News Radio - On Nazis

PS: If I get any flames about being anti-nazi I'll puke

Baby Daddy Debacle '08

We saw the first glimpses from our lawyer, laywering. Our experience so far has been hours of waiting for the appointment long past, in a waiting room. Followed by being invited into his office only to be accosted if we try to ask too many question or heaven forbid, interrupt. He has high moments, where we are all friends and he is patient and kind. Giggling, ordering food, all is well with the world. And those low times where he can't understand why we don't know the legal system and the relevance of each component of our case.

Anywho, we were in his office for another one of our session with Manic Depressive LL. B. when BD 's lawyer phones him. She just recieved some of our documentation and is responding to it. He did a great job, I was impressed. And this is the deal, she says the only thing her client has to go on is that our relationship is unconventional. She doesn't want this to go to court. Her case is thin and BD has always been delivered his daughter prompty and regularly since he agreed to do so. BD would rather not put through his weak emergency motion, he wants a representative of the children's lawyer to come visit us. And compare the interaction with the child and the parents.

We didn't know what to do. We can go through with the motion leaving it to a judge. But what if you get the wrong kind of judge. And hope because BD is unprepared, we would look like a much more suitable party. The other option, this rep of the children's lawyer, also has pros and cons to that as well. What if what may have been not such a big deal in court, is wide out in the open in our home. Our bed is giant, we have pictures of all of us around. It is very apparent. What if they aren't in agreement with that and they don't decide in our favor?

We decided to go with the rep coming over. They only come 50% of the time anyway if they believe it is unnecessary. And the process of getting a visit takes months and months. Further the status quo and bettering our case. Our lawyer doubts that they would come. And if so, BD's lawyer says she will advise her client to drop this business all together. It really is a question of the childs best interest. And that means staying with how things are if it is a good, sound place to be. She is in no physical harm etc... but there are those ya know, who get really really wigged out when you tell them what your family looks like.

We are still in court on the 20th to decide how much access BD will receive until the final discussion. BD wants to ensure he gets 4 weekends a month. Opop has been very kind in the past providing him so much time with the littlin', but it is not with in her best interest anymore. Now she is at school, all of the time she has for recreation is with him. And he believes that time to be his own so he will not put her in activities so as not to enter in his time. That, and he has no money. *coughcough*

In October last year, he agreed to let Opop have her for the week as per usual and 1 weekend. That was so great, time in pj's together :) But he wants to renege on that promise.

So what are we asking for? What the law deems appropriate as a general guideline, and that is every other weekend. So boo to that. Really hope we get that!!

Peace and love my Compoundians :)

Oh, Indy

Again, no tv, has this gotten around?

I want to believe.

So there's that

Apologies for the silence lately, today is our last day to get supporting documentation in and most of our time recently has been spent collecting pictures, driving for signatures and conferencing with our lawyer. After today we have a week of relative silence, and then the first day with a judge (assuming nothing else comes up from Baby Daddy's end.) The first time up will be to determine where the lil'un will be staying for the duration of the proceedings.

I feel like this time is the canary-in-the-coal-mine for us... I hope this will be handled quickly, quietly and in our favour.

I have no interest in becoming case history to some future proceeding. I just want my family together.

BD decided not to play our relationship situation too heavily in his application, there's that at least, and we've blown his application out of the water in terms of quality and substance. As Opopanax said yesterday while browsing a stack of legal documentation: "I want to believe it's enough. I want to believe this isn't all for nothing." and as the ever present Gaunt said: "... I would like to think that people just aren't THAT stupid."

We all really appreciate the comments on May's first post on the topic, knowing people see it our way helps to take a lot of the wind out of the sails of the black galleon of doom.

Canadian Charter of Rights And Freedoms:

2. Everyone has the following fundamental freedoms:
a) freedom of conscience and religion;
b) freedom of thought, belief, opinion and expression, including freedom of the press and other media of communication;
c) freedom of peaceful assembly; and
d) freedom of association.

or even:

7. Everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of the person and the right not to be deprived thereof except in accordance with the principles of fundamental justice.

Here's hoping.

lunch crumbs

The problem with "tell me how it all happened", and this is largely the same problem with "how did you find religion", is that a serious discussion may involve crises or decisions that one party or the other isn't going to be comfortable discussing. Not in a shady sense either, but simply as one of those things People Don't Talk About.

It Shall Set You Free?

Much has happened around here this last little while. We haven't spoken about it. But I got the o.k. tonight and I thought I would post a note.

Baby Daddy is taking us to court. He doesn't want his little one around us Poly's. We have nothing to fear we are told by our lawyer. But this is scary business. Our babies have the best care here. We are first and foremost parents. And fucking great ones at that. It would be a great loss.

He liked us at first. Until they wanted to move in. We live a little ways out of the city and he is convinced this will fall apart. He's never been denied access and we have always been responsible for pick up and drop off. We have offered visits and tours but he is disinterested.

Arg!

We are preparing the best defense we can and hope that our truth prevails. We are getting support letters, records, pictures, anything we can together that will help.

Court is on the 20th. It isn't the final say, just a decision where she should stay before trial proceedings. Usually things stay status quo I hear.

So scary.

Dueling Billboards

- Found on Greta Christina's Blog

Flag Considerations

We have a flag pole, left here by one of the previous occupiers, and we've been discussing what design we should use for the national flag. The legislative system in Compoundia is still a little liquid, decisions tend to be made in (occasionally smokey) back rooms and then implemented on the civilian populace (median age: 5) with little democratic process. So it seems in line to open the floor to foreign delegates for commentary and a sense of national transparency. (But don't go poking around our naval disclosure.)

These are all little doodles (and obviously only vague ideas) for the main symbology. I etched them while fuming about how crap the monster reveal was as we watched the second season of lost on DVD. Compoundia is displeased by your foreign plots!

I like the item on the left of the upper image, as it reminds me somehow of the flux capacitor, which has a long and secret history here. There's something pleasing about the forked image, but it looks a little too like an American football official informing the crowd it's good while under odd lighting.

The top two in the below image are obviously variations of the same, but I kind of prefer the one on the right, even if it seems a little sciencey (The technology sector is currently a large part of our GDP). I considered putting dots on the inner ring to represent the heirs apparent, in the style of the American flag's stars-for-states, but how to divide them became a problem. The bottom one actually just makes me think of a villianous corporation or super-consortium. Or possibly somehow nautical.

Thoughts from home or abroad? Colour scheme is also up in the air as far as I know.

1+1+1=1

A step towards three-parent babies?

Progress report shows clinical application of technique still far away.

A predictable media circus followed a UK newspaper's report yesterday that scientists have created so-called 'three-parent embryos'. But some of the reports have misconstrued what the scientists have actually done thus far, and the scientists caution that their unpublished work, while promising, is still far from clinical use. - more

We don't have cable, and that often makes it difficult to tell what kind of reach a news item has. We spent a lot of time looking over the incoming information from super Tuesday, but I hadn't heard about this until I saw it in a boing boing post.

funny seeing you here

It hailed earlier, dainty meteors careening off of the tin roof. Almost all of us were almost asleep, but now the lights are on and it's all weddings and lessons on Russian.

If there was a cotton candy dispenser and a pony, my early childhood suppositions about what grown-ups did after we were forced to bed just might be true.

Also, I'm glad I work from home.

Happy Birthday, George

George Andrew Romero (born February 4, 1940) is an American director, writer, editor and actor. He is best known for his Dead Series of four horror movies featuring a zombie apocalypse theme and a commentary on modern society. - Wikipedia

The question is, will my lovely wives allow me to go to Diary of the Dead?

(If it will even be available near us...)

May's Melolagnia

Installment Two: Formal Apology

I know. I'm a terrible person. I was supposed to have audio up monday. It hasn't been a lack of desire, trust me! I went to the best buy when we were in town but they were closed. Didn't they know we were coming? I will pick up a mic as soon as I can and it will be up!

Instead, I shall impart to you, yummy ear candy;


Brandi Carlile: The Story


Radiohead: House of Cards

Calling All Squeegees

The Ontario Government has authorized the production of a new solar 'farm' in Sarnia. It also pledged to buy solar energy for the next 20 years. Optisolar is California based company with executive ties to Canadian oil companies. Four sections of farmland totaling 900 acres have been purchased for the solar panels which will be up and running before 2010. The site and all included costs of this venture will be just shy of 300 million.

Sarnia's 'Chemical Valley' hasn't exactly always given the impression of 'clean' energy and chemical production. But the Ontario Government has offered to buy the clean energy for 42 cents per kilowatt-hour which was an offer Optisolar couldn't refuse. Sarnia too, borders Detroit, allowing for easy distribution to consumers. It also being the southern most part of Canada, allows for the longest daylight hours.

Other countries such as Portugal and Germany have similar sites, but this is by far the biggest photovoltaic solar farm that North America has ever constructed.

Molly Nix, Chapter 1: The Insomniac 001

Well. I've decided to try out a little experiment in writing a pulp serial for the site, if nothing else it'll force me to get a little bit written every week to keep the fires stoked. I've also enlisted the assistance of the wonderful Opopanax to read the pieces aloud, so here both in text and audio is the first instalment:



(More information on the audio version is available here.)

Molly Nix,

Chapter 1: The Insomniac, Part I

I’d just stepped down from the pharmacy stoop when Junior Reece slid his truck to a stop on the loose snow across the way. Junior was of fighting age, but he only had his right arm and was serving his country in a different way. Never slowed his driving though.

His engine stammered to a halt in front of Mr. McKelvie’s Bakery, and he was soon sauntering at me. I’d been on some down time, as was the nature of the business, and I’d just spent twenty minutes listening to an elderly gent who’d managed to box in one of Gordon Public School’s Marms between the baked goods and the crotch powders. Her bad luck, but mine too as she was also blocking the book rack, my only source in town, this being ’43, and I having hollowed out the library by spring of ’41. In the end I had to give him an accidental shoulder and held the gap while Mrs. Stanislaw made a break for it.

The pickings had been slim, and in all honesty the whole town was feeling a little mean. So I was actually glad when Junior said:

“Able and Schwerdtfeger got a long distance call, you need to get back to the farm.”

The phone was a bit of an extravagance given that everyone else in the county was waiting for peace and line men. Unfortunately, it was also pretty useless. Government operation or not we were on the same switch board as everyone else in town, and the ladies who ran it were chatty hens. Mail and couriers were generally where details came from.

“Did they say what it was about?” I asked as we started back to his truck.

“Able said to hurry and get packed for five nights in the cold, cold bed you’ll be carrying.”

I pressed Junior for more details on the way home, and when it became obvious he didn’t have anything more to give up, we both lapsed into silence. Junior never really talked of his own accord, although he’d match you word for word.

Leaving town and paved roads behind, we eventually slid into the long sloping double rut that was the farm’s drive. There were ten of us in residence then, with another ten living in houses within driving distance. You couldn’t see much of the buildings from the road, except the humblest side of the Van Der Veens’ place when the foliage was off the trees. The Van Der Veens were the folks who ran the 300 acres of land we used as buffer from outside interest, and in exchange they got to keep whatever profits they turned on the wheat. Neither they nor their son could say more than “Hello” in English at that point, but Junior, who’s story in town was that he was their farm hand, could swear up a storm in nine languages.

I was hoping everyone would be home when I got there, and I found Apple Juice eating a sandwich over the sink. Tom was at the table.

“It’s going to be that exciting huh?” I’d hoped they’d be around but it smelled of a low key vigil.

Welcome home kisses were exchanged and AJ offered me half of her ham and pickle.

“Something seems to have done in a family of five up north. No damage to them, no thrashing or anything… and nothing that looks like an outbreak.” Tom, was speaking as the voice of doom, but still trying to ease my mind at the same time. I hate virii. He had paused, but after a little cough he continued: “Seems to have been pretty quick though, they all went at the breakfast table.”

They talked off some of their anxiety, and then tried to talk off some of mine. I think I even brought up the idea of moving, although the idea was wiped out before I made it back. All too soon my duffel was packed and I was following the snow bank along the drive, as the sun dropped behind the trees. I was just starting to hope that the dark might force us to wait till morning when I saw Junior finishing a smoke on the porch wearing that goofy leather cap he’d pull on every time they’d let him fly.

A sure sign we were in a rush, but then again, they only bothered to call me when it was. I pushed inside to see Able and Schwerdtfeger.