Spanish and the quest for food here in Wilkes ...

.... can get to be interesting and educational. Two days ago I had a hunger for juevos con chorizos for lunch, so I went over to Chile Verde restaurant. When the waiter seated me I politely said "Gracias." He must have been one of the few of their staff who is not more comfortable in English than Spanish because from that point on we carried on our conversation in Spanish. Alas, they did not have any eggs, so I had to change my order to taquitos. But I felt good about being able to handle a lesson one level conversation in Spanish.

The next day I had to walk from David's Car Care back home. It was a gorgeous morning so I walked down the Greenway to the foot bridge, up the slope to the courthouse, uh, I mean the Heritage Museum. Decided to have lunch at Buen Amigo, the Honduran restaurant. The Hispanic there spoke English so no more Spanish practice. But they had juevos con chorizos plus those little Honduran tortillas. It was good stuff. Food is certainly one reason to appreciate the influx of immigrants.

Our trip to the movies in Winston

Last weekend I bundled Carmen and Clovis up into the car and took off for Winston to see "Pan's Labyrinth." The movie was great, the movie-going experience slightly less great. It was showing, along with several other worthwhile movies, e.g. "The Queen," at the Grand 18 Winston. It seems to be a new theatre, or should I say theatre complex. It's huge setting atop an enormous expanse of a hill top overlooking the highway. Each side of the thing must be about a city block long. It has 18 screens, hence its name.

There were, however, a few discordant notes, starting with the two police cars parked on the sidewalk in front of the main entrance. The crowd, however, seemed cheerful and nicely behave, despite the signs all over the place warning parents that children couldn't be left outside the theatre and had to leave within one hour of the movie they had seen.

But the worst thing of all was the state of the viewing room where we saw the movie. The staff had not bothered to clean it after the previous show. There was the garbage of the last audience all over the place. So while it is a nice new fancy place, the management is not able to even keep the place clean. Perhaps they need to use some of their profits to hire a few staff members at minimum wage to clean up. Or do it themselves, as the owner of the Liberty Theatre does here in North Wilkesboro.

The improving computer situation ....

.... has almost solved all of my problems. People have occasionally commented on both my blogs about my seeming inability to spell. Well, I have a good excuse - technical malfunctions, to wit, a sticky keyboard that does all kinds of strange things. That, and dial up service via the never to be sufficiently condemned AOL (which is actually getting worse).

Well, I think I have solved THAT problem. I went out and bought a brand new Dell Inspiron with most of the bells and whistles. AND I am getting 1.5 m broadband from Embarq. I've even had young Clovis come over to help set it up - only cost a dinner and a movie.

That should fix it. No more sticky keyboard, no more interminable waits for the machine to actually DO anything, and best of all - no more dependency on AOL.

Of course, this does endanger my reputation as a luddite.

An unfortunate story for the big port city to the south ...

... that we often visit. It's from The Week, Carmen's favorite magazine.

"Obviously, any policy that allows a sexual-battery victim to spend a night in jail is a flawed policy." [Port City] police spokeswoman on a college student who was jailed for an outstanding warrant after telling authorities she had been raped. A jail worker refused, for religious reasons, to give the woman behind bars a dose of the morning-after contraceptive pill.

There's always something going on in the big port city. At least this time they had the brains to realize it was a boneheaded move, and the honesty to admit it.

A modest proposal on the Spanish version of the National Anthem ....

.... partly because I am patriotic, and love to reconcile feuding factions, but mainly because Carmen and I don't have a lot to do on a Monday evening where PBS is having its pledge drive.

First of all, how many of you actually know the Star Spangled Banner? And how many of you can honestly sing it? Of those few who think they can sing it, are you willing to try it in public, before an audience of friends, neighbors and family members (who will never, ever, forget your attempt)?

OK - if you can stand up in public, sing the entire Star Spangled Banner without suddenly humming along somewhere in the second verse, THEN we will listen to your opinion on whether or not translating it into Spanish is acceptable.

And you should also know that Francis Scott Key stole the tune. Originally it was a rather bizarre little drinking song for a club of wealthy aristocrats who got together to celebrate music, wine and food! It was called The Anacreontic Club and their theme song was "Anacreon in Heaven." Here are the lyrics - try to sing along with the tune of Star Spangled Banner. (btw, if you look at the lyrics carefully you will see that the club was celebrating something more than music, wine and food)

To Anacreon in heaven where he sat in full glee,
A few sons of harmony sent a petition,
That he their inspirer and patron would be,
When this answer arrived from the jolly old Grecian:
Voice, fiddle aud flute, no longer be mute,
I'll lend you my name and inspire you to boot!
And besides I'll instruct you like me to entwine
The myrtle of Venus and Bacchus's vine.

The news through Olympus immediately flew,
When old Thunder pretended to give himself airs,
If these mortals are suffered their scheme to pursue,
The devil a goddess will stay above stairs,
Hark! already they cry, in transports of joy,
A fig for Parnassus, to Rowley's we'll fly,
And there my good fellows, we'll learn to entwine
The myrtle of Venus and Bacchus's vine.

The yellow-haired god, and his nine fusty maids,
To the hill of old Lud will incontinent flee,
Idalia will boast but of tenantless shades,
And the biforked hill a mere desert will be,
My thunder, no fear on't, will soon do its errand,
And, damn me I'll swinge the ringleaders, I warrant
I'll trim the young dogs, for thus daring to twine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine.

Apollo rose up and said, "Prythee ne'er quarrel,
Good king of the gods, with my votaries below
Your thunder is useless - then showing his laurel,
Cried, Sic evitabile fulmen, you know!
Then over each head my laurels I'll spread,
So my sons from your crackers no mischief shall dread
Whilst snug in their club-room, they jovially twine
The myrtle of Venus and Bacchus's vine.

The Kitty-Cat report from the land of Wilkes ...

Yesterday while I was working in the living room I could hear Ben chattering softly to herself in the big window. She only does this when she sees something she wants to kill (I've been told, though I am not sure I believe it, that this is typical of the cats from Ben's homeland on an Appalachian mountain top, and only of those cats). I looked out the window with her and saw a sleek fat Robin hopping around in our yard gobbling up worms. At heart, sweet little Ben is a killer and a thug.

And there is something weird going on with the birds. When I got back to my office and looked out the window I saw a Blue Jay hopping around on the tree branches right outside. I think the bird community has made up its mind on global warming. To them, it's springtime.

Mosby has become a yurt builder. We have a thick fluffy blue blanket that we fold up at the foot of t he bed so Mosby can pose on it - "Yes, I do look stunning on blue - yes, you may admire me." Lately though she has begun to push her nose under the first few folds, and then burrows under it until she has created a Mosby shaped tunnel. Then she turns around so she can look out of her little hut and observe the world while she stays snug and warm.

Yesterday she made the most elaborate of her huts to date - it looked like a yurt! She got into it and Ben came along and cuddled up to the back of it, just like she does with Carmen at night.

And that is the kitty-cat news for now.

Gee, and I was worried about how much beer I drank....

.... until I read this in The Week magazine.

Just 10 percent of beer drinkers consume 43 percent of all beer sold. These 'core' beer drinkers average nearly a gallon of beer a day.

I'm feeling more sober by the minute. In fact, I think I'll go have a beer* to celebrate.


*I only drink over-priced artisanal beer hand crafted by liederhosen clad elves speaking medieval German with Mexican accents in deep dark caves in the Appalachians. Cuts down on consumption.

Like THE KNIGHTS WHO UNTIL RECENTLY SAID 'NI' ....

I am changing my nom de blog. I will now be known as ... CLEMENS.

Yep. That's it. Clemens.

Why? Well, because I once looked like Samuel Clemens until I grew my beard - now I look like Marcus Aurelius. And because #$%% Blogger joined both my blogs together and made Clemens my name for both. So good bye Oscar. Besides, 'Uncle Clemens' has a nicer ring to it.

Now, if someone would just get me some shrubbery.

The Lummox that didn't bark ....

... or as a politician might say, he barked before he didn't bark.

Last night I was late getting to bed and stayed awake a bit while listening to a French tape (still trying to master French after all these years). Mosby the Grey Ghost came up and snuggled down between me and Carmen and of course I had to spend some time petting her. Then, just as I was starting to fall asleep, the little lummox started to bark. Then he stopped. Just as I was starting to fall asleep for the second time, he started up again. This went on for several episodes until I couldn't stand it anymore.

I stalked out to the Dog's Room, formerly known as the Family Room and forcefully told him in my sternest voice "NO BARKING! NOOO BAAARRKING!" He just kept wagging his tail and grinning at me. But he stopped -- at least until I had been back in bed for five minutes. Then he cranked up again (probably still grinning and wagging).

This time Carmen got up and went out to talk to him for a few minutes. Then she came back to bed muttering about how cold it was. But the lummox didn't bark any more at all.

The next morning I asked her how she did it. She said she just got down on her hands and knees, looked out the glass door with him, and told him "Good Boy! You're so brave! We're safe now. Good boy!"

There must be a moral there somewhere.

Just for Joey.... A further word about the monks and beer ....

... well, I think my lil' sister also said something about it. But this is from the Rule of Saint Benedict, the original rule books for monks, at least in western Europe:

"Everyone has personal gifts from God, one this and anther that" (1 Cor. 7:7). It is, therefore, with some uneasiness that we specify the amount of food and drink for others. However, with due regard for the infirmities of the sick, we believe that a half bottle of wine a day is sufficient for each. But those to whom God gives the strength to abstain must know that they will earn their reward.

You'll notice that nothing is said about beer. But I think I could handle the handle the half bottle of wine a day, especially if I could save them up for the weekend.