The Bauer Confidential

I’ve taken some inspiration from other blogs I frequent, and instead of coming up with a thoughtful and original post, I’m going to introduce you to some of my favorite time-wasters.  Mainly, I like to visit these sites when I need a laugh.

Ever ordered a cake from a commercial bakery and gotten something not quite right?  Then you’ve experienced a Cake Wreck first hand.  Even if you haven’t had personal experience, these creations will leave you scratching your head and asking, “Why?”

It’s not news, it’s FARK.  Since we don’t have cable, this is my substitute for the Daily Show.  You’ll be amazed at the news going on in the US and abroad, and even more astounded by the witty headlines people come up with to describe these events.

Anyone who ever had roomates or had to interact with others on a daily basis will appreciate Passive-agressive notes.  This site will make you think twice about leaving snarky notes for those around you, and make you appreciate that you don’t have these sorts of issues.

If you appreciate photography, funny stories about ranch life (calf-nuts and all), in addition to delicious looking recipes, check out The Pioneer Woman.  Anyone who loves bacon this much is definitely my kind of gal.

At least one entry per day on I can has cheezburger makes me laugh out loud.  I also like its sister sites, I has hotdog and failblog (not always work safe).  I’m a sucker for cute animals (as the links to CuteOverload and StuffonMyCat.com in the side bar show) and a enjoy a bit of schadenfreude watching the people on failblog hurt themselves.

I think that will do it for now, happy web surfing, and don’t waste too much time, though laughing is good for you!

Our cat, Bella.  Berkeley, CA, 2008.

I figured Bella hasn’t really had much face time on our site, and as the neurotic-feline ruler of our abode, she deserves a proper introduction.  Beware, she’s obsessed with licking fingers and has been known to hold people down and force them to submit to her cleaning of their hands.  I got Bella back in 2002 from Second Chance, the pet rescue in Columbia.  She warmed to Matthew right away, and now I think she prefers him to me.  She’s gotten really vocal since we moved to California, and will cry and cry until you come and pet her while she eats.

More about Wordless Wednesday.

This weekend marks the start of the third trimester of this pregnancy.  I don’t know what I expected really, I certainly wasn’t going to be a wimpy pregnant lady.  I didn’t understand all these women who would take off work in the last trimester, cry at the drop of a hat, or seemingly loose their ability to function normally.  I’ve always been one to keep my emotions in check pretty well, I believe in logic and reason above all else.  That was until I started crying for no damn reason.  And when I say no reason, I mean no reason.  Today at work, of all places, sitting at my desk I just started crying and couldn’t stop.  I wasn’t sad, I wasn’t angry, I wasn’t in pain.  There was absolutely no reason I could come up with for it, and it took a while to stop.  Then when I called Matthew to tell him that maybe going to lunch with his coworkers might not be such a great idea for me, I started crying again when I told him about the pointless crying.  This isn’t the very first incident, but the first time that there was absolutely nothing to cause such an outburst.  Am I going to have to hide for the next thirteen weeks for fear of embarrassing myself among my co-workers?  Though I think ultimately they’d understand, having to explain something like this to people is about as bad as the embarrassment.

I’m also begining to be slowed down by the changes to my body.  My exercise routine has definitely had to be curtailed significantly, and I’m going to need to switch to swimming as of now due to gravity and pressure.  My normal walking rate is getting slower and slower, bending over at the waist is a thing of the past.  Is it bad that I’m ready to be done being pregnant already?  I know rationally that carrying the baby as long as possible is essential, but that doesn’t take the aches away.  I don’t want to be a complainer, and I also know that I’ve actually been pretty lucky in terms of the discomforts of pregnancy.  I made this choice and knew that it wouldn’t be easy.  Still I’m surprised by how I’m affected, perhaps it’s my pride that’s hurt the most because I may not be as strong, physically or emotionally, as I’d always imagined I was.  So maybe I am a wimp, or maybe it’s harder than I was previously able to imagine.  If the baby would stop punching me in the bladder maybe I’d feel better, or maybe I just need some ice cream.

Point Isabel, Albany, CA.  July 2008.

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Until two years ago I lived a small town/suburban life.  More years than I care to count were spent in “College Town, USA.”  To find two positions in the same town, Matthew and I knew that an urban center would be our best bet.  In the end our choices were limited, and Berkeley beckoned as a place we could be together and continue on our professional paths in our areas of interest.

I want to go on the record as saying that there are many things I really like about the bay area.  I love the weather (though I do sometimes tire of the rainy season), public transit system, convenience of restaurants, shops, theaters, museums and other entertainment.  Somedays, however, I wonder if all that convenience comes at too high of a price.

Today I had a strange experience on BART, I was transporting a canning pot full of glass jars into the city for to make some jam and applesauce with a friend.  The pot was very heavy so I picked a bench that was unoccupied and set the pot on the seat next to me, this wasn’t hard to find since the train was practically empty.  About 30 seconds later, an older lady came up to me, pointed to the pot and told me, quite rudely, that she wanted that seat.  I was perplexed, as there were many open seats, some closer to the doors, but placed the pot on the floor and gave her the seat.  I assumed the woman must have some sort of physical reason to be so particular about her seat, but I was wrong, there was nothing physically amiss with this woman (except a compulsion to wear plastic gloves on public transit, but maybe that’s mental not physical).  After changing trains, I felt quite guilty for not giving up my seat to a different older woman while I was boxed into a seat with my hands full as teenagers and young men made no move to give her their space.  These two experiences got me thinking about the mentality of urban residents.

Does being one of so many make it easier to give less consideration to others?  You know it is highly unlikely that you will encounter the people you meet on the train in other aspects of your life, so how you treat them makes no difference.  Be rude, be considerate, it doesn’t matter because there are no reprecussions for your actions.  Cars packed on the freeway, people jostling lines at the grocery store, there’s no reason to be kind to those around you because it doesn’t affect your life.  Still I can’t help but think that if we were more considerate of others, and they returned the favor in sort of a pay it forward scenario, in the end life would be easier for all of us.

I think this self-importance translates to other aspects of people’s lives.  It manifests as city councils, like those of Berkeley, that won’t fix pot holes or public safety issues, but have plenty of time to pass resolutions for Impeaching the US President and VP or trying to muscle out Army recruiters.  The activist tradition of the bay area is tarnished by people who choose to devote their efforts and waste public resources for poorly reasoned causes, often endangering themselves or others.  The self-righteousness of people quoted in papers and featured on the news is ridiculous, and makes it unsurprising that it takes forever to accomplish even the smallest things around here.

I’m not saying you won’t find inconsiderate and/or self-righteous people in small towns, but I think those people feel the effects of their actions.  When people know you and your deeds/words, they’re more likely to hold you accountable.  This probably explains why most people would prefer to live in a small town if given the chance.  I don’t know what to do about this predicament.  We have to live here for a few more years at the least, but when the chance comes, I really hope we can go to a place that is not so anonymous; I miss “College Town, USA.”

I was looking at all the different sports on-line yesterday, and I know the more popular ones which are in the Olympics: Basketball, baseball, gymnastics, swimming (Michael Phelps to be precise since he is the sport to many Americans), and beach volleyball.  I saw the sport of shooting, and my first thought was “Americans should kick ass in the sport!”  Team USA isn’t doing bad, but they’re not kicking ass and I don’t understand why?  America has more guns per person than probably any developed nation, and with a high populations of hunters and rednecks, we should be kicking some serious tail.  If all else fails, we have the urban gangs.  I know aiming isn’t one of their strong suits, but I’m sure there has got to be a diamond in the rough out there somewhere.

Also, I was talking with April the other day and was wondering if there are any sports that are not in the Olympics but should be.  For example, should Golf or Bowling or maybe even Billards be included?  I know they’re popular in America, but are they popular in enough countries to be included?  Any thoughts about this out there?

Point Isabel, Albany, CA.  August, 2008.

More about Wordless Wednesday.

My family is pretty big into sports.  My dad is a wrestling coach, my brothers have played just about every sport that is played in middle america.  Growing up, at least one TV in that house seemed to be perpetually tuned to ESPN.  Even my grandparents are big into football, my 84 year old grandmother loves the Huskers (is there any other team? Go Cornhuskers, woot!).  I’m not as interested in sports, most of the time.  I loved playing volleyball in high school, and was a pretty good thrower in track and field.  I really enjoyed playing co-ed softball in grad school and like to go out and play a friendly game of just about anything.  Watching sports on TV is a different story, as a general rule, I just don’t enjoy it.  I’ll happily go to any live sporting even and have a great time, but somehow it looses something in the broadcasting.

There is, however, one huge exception for me:  the Olympics.  I love the Olympics.  Have since I was a kid; I still remember watching the ‘84 LA games when I was six and falling in love with gymnastics, turning porch railings into balance beams and nearly cracking my head open.  I’ll watch pretty much any Olympic event, summer or winter games.  Since the start of this year’s games on Friday, the Olympics have pretty much taken over my life.  OK, that’s an exaggeration, but my evenings anyway.

The timed sports are the easiest to watch.  It doesn’t get much better than watching the American’s kick the speedo-clad butts of the French team in the 4×100meter freestyle after the anchor of the French team had professed that they would “crush” the American’s (though it would have been better if I hadn’t forgotten that live on the NBC screen means live East Coast time, so you should not look at CNN if you want any surprises).

The judged events are a different story.  I’m sure a lot of it is training and knowledge of the sport, but I’m often left scratching my head as to why one routine scores so much higher than another.  The most difficult system to grasp is the new gymnastics way of scoring.  I hate it.  It used to be a 10 was the best you could do in anything.  Now they give a difficulty score and an execution score, these scores are combined and any deductions subtracted to give the final score.  I appreciate rewarding athletes for the more difficult routines, but there is no longer the transparency of knowing which judge gave what score.  The process is even more hidden from the viewers.  The judges can review tapes of a given performance and then go and compare them to any other routine from that competition.  And they can go back and devalue or increase a score at anytime.  This just strikes me as wrong.  And it takes forever for them to give the scores.  Supposedly this is system will ensure less bias in the judging, but I don’t see it.

So I’ll just go on holding my breath as the men and women launch themselves into the air and grasp the high bar or uneven bars at the very last instant.  I’ll try not to care too much about the scores.  It was great to see the American men’s gymnastics team, composed of Olympics newbies after the loss of the Hamm brothers, take home the bronze when they weren’t even expected to be in the running.  It’s not always about the gold.

Point Isabel, Albany Shoreline, CA.  August 2008.

I would like to add that right after Matthew took that picture the doggie came up to him and in trying to lick his face licked the lens of the camera.

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P.S.  There are two new slide shows in the photos section of some hiking we did this weekend.

Many of you probably know that I’m a bit of a foodie.  I don’t consider myself a true food snob since I still love things like Rice Krispie treats and jello salads, but I enjoy a diversity of good food.  I also enjoy preparing good food, and there’s nothing like a good breakfast.  Much to my dismay, one of my frequent food failures has been hash-browns from scratch, which also happens to be one of my favorite breakfast accoutrements.  I don’t know if I haven’t been using the right kind of potatoes or crowding the pan, but mine always come out soggy.

Sunday morning, I wanted hash-browns, the yummy, crunchy hash-browns that my Grandmother used to make with peanut oil in her electric skillet.  The closest I’ve come is the hash-browns at Saul’s in the Gourmet Ghetto of Berkeley, only a few blocks from our home.  Since a pregnant woman usually gets what a pregnant woman wants, we headed there for breakfast (don’t think Matthew went along in protest, he likes the place as much as I).  It was still early (by Berkeley standards) so we were seated promptly and our orders were expediently taken by the very nice waiter.  I ordered a Swiss-cheese omelet, which comes with toast and hash-browns according the the menu, and Matthew ordered their famous Challah french toast.  I was saddened when my plate arrived and I was served not the crunchy hash-browns that I’d had there several times before, but home-fry like chunks of potatoes with onions and peppers.  Now don’t get me wrong, the home-fries were pretty tasty, but they weren’t hash-browns, and they weren’t nearly as good as the hash-browns.  So I asked the waiter about the change and he said they had used frozen potatoes in the past, but had decided to get away from processed foods.  On the weekend the demand for hash-browns was too high to shred the potatoes by hand, but you could still get the other style of hash-browns Monday through Thursday.  The waiter seemed generally sorry and said a lot of people had protested the change.  I think if I hadn’t come there specifically because I wanted hash-browns, it probably wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, but since that had been my goal, I was pretty disappointed.  My omelet was only mediocre, a bit bland, but probably my fault for choosing Swiss.  The Challah French Toast was phenomenal, as usual.  You can’t help but love these huge thick slices of slightly sweet bread and a great batter slathered with maple syrup (though they’re a bit stingy on the syrup).

We’ve only been to Saul’s for dinner once, and though the food was OK, I didn’t think it was worth the price.  In the future, I’m sure we’ll go back.  It’s so conveniently located that I’m sure on lazy mornings we’ll get our breakfast fix there from time to time.  Now we’ll go when we’re in the mood for french toast, which they do better than anyone around.  Next time I want hash-browns, I guess I’ll be going to IHOP, or trying my hand at them once again.