How much is enough?

For those of you expecting an essay on corporate greed, the merits of executive compensation and bonuses funded by you, the taxpayer, I regret to inform you that this will not be the place.

Hurts my brain to think about such things.

I'm-a gonna talk about fish. The raw kind. You know, sushi.

6 people for dinner. How much to get?


All of it, apparently. For those of you thinking that you might want to go fishing this weekend, we sincerely apologize for eating all of the fish in the Atlantic Ocean.

A good time was had by all. A rousing game of Cranium followed dinner, along with an impromptu discussion of non-Keplarian motion facilitaed by yours truly. That in turn led to a debate on the economic merits and pitfalls of fusion power. Free electricity? Maybe.

Gotta run, the Spinach and Gruyere strata is ready to come out of the oven. Mmmmmm.

Cornering the Market

Funny things happen when you have kids. You tend to get a bit scatterbrained on occasion.

Things you should probably remember are quickly forgotten.

Specifically, why are we attempting to corner the market on Seasoned Salt?

Is this the beginning of some James Bond arch villain plot to hold the cooking world for ransom?

All these containers are more than 3/4 full, and currently reside in our spice cabinet.

Step 1: Get Seasoned Salt

Step 2:

Step 3: Profit

A Few Pics

Sorry for the light posting, but been busy with life and all.

Here are some pics from the trip to the UK.



First up is a shot of yours truly with a shipmate I have known and served with for 10 years. This was our first time we have had the opportunity to go on AT together.



Next is the obligatory shot proving that I was actually in England, not just some bar somewhere. This is one of the few known photos of me in the UK where I am not holding a beer in one hand.



Another pub, another pint.



Covent Garden. Another pint and the sun glinting off my giant forehead.



This is the ceiling of the RAF Bar at the Eagle Pub in Cambridge. This particular watering hole was frequented by American servicemen (primarily USAAF) during WWII. Some of the crewmembers took it upon themselves to leave their names behind in a rather unique way; by writing their names in smoke using matches and lighters. Although I can't confirm it, word is that this is not the original ceiling, but rather a large-format photograph of the original.

Note: I was probably holding a beer when I took this picture.



Update: Sure enough. Beer in hand. Looks like an Old Abbot or perhaps Old Speckled Hen



This is the parish church in Molesworth. This part of England is dotted with small villages and hamlets, each with a church pretty much exactly like this one. I included this one because a) we drove by it every day, and b) it has a bit of interesting history.

If you look closely at the top of the steeple, you'll notice that the stone changes color near the very top. This church is about a mile away from what was a B-17 base during the war. The story is that a B-17 clipped the steeple when landing in bad weather.

The best part about the trip was the return home.

The Wife and The Kid met me at the airport, which was pretty special. As soon as I walked through the doorway to the arrivals area, The Kid screamed "DADDDDDDIIIIEEEEEE!" at the top of her lungs and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her. She ran into me like a linebacker, threw her arms around my neck and hugged me longer than she ever has before. The Wife had the camera with her, but couldn't get it out in time. No matter. The pictures wouldn't do the moment justice anyway. They never do.