Christmas dinner . . .

. . . at Bulldog's kennel.

Turkey breast, green beans, mashed potatoes, crescent rolls, cornbread stuffing and frozen salad. We even got out the Spode and the Waterford. I cooked the turkey. Mrs. B did the rest. She did an amazing job.

Mission . . .

. . . Accomplished!

By Ian, that is. Whilst visiting Omaha for Lisa's wedding, Ian and I proved to be abject failures at creating one version of a black & tan. That notwithstanding, the failures were truly enjoyable, because a failed black & tan is either a half & half OR, another version of a black & tan. How can one lose?

Nonetheless, we both were determined to make the "real thing." Ian succeeded first - primarily because I sent him a clever little device.

No, not the custom bent spoon. We tried that, and had more failures to drink. The device is made by Bass, is called a "Brolly," and it works perfectly.

I'm not sure that "perfectly" involves a pale ale from New York, but I'm feeling charitable tonight. After all, he did use a proper stout.

Tailgating . . .

. . . is not socially acceptable - or safe, for that matter.

(BLOGNOTE: Brokeback Mountain coments will be ignored)

Little missy (hereinafter, THAT BITCH or TB) - who has the age to drive, but not the requisite common sense - is hanging her Mustang about 10 feet off my back bumper. This would not be a problem if we were stopped in a parking lot or sitting at a traffic signal. Unfortunately, that which is acceptable in a parking lot is not as much so on the interstate.

Moving at 65 MPH.

In traffic.

During rush hour.

TB has no place else to go, as all the other lanes were full and moving at the same speed, but somehow she JUST HAS TO GET 10 FEET FURTHER DOWN THE ROAD AT ALL COSTS! After all, at 65 mph, 10 feet will save her a full 105 milliseconds.

That is, unless TB plants her Mustang in my trunk.

What to do, what to do?

Tap the brakes without slowing down. Mild signal. Ignored. Still 10 feet back.

Tap the brakes without slowing down. Gentle wave. Ignored. Still 10 feet back.

Slow down significantly, but safely. A bit startled, TB moves back to about 50 feet.

Solved, I think.

Not so. I'm back to speed. TB is back to 10 feet.

Enough of this game. If I'm going to get rammed, it will be at a slower speed.

Another significant (but safe) slow down, accompanied by a stern wave to move the F**K back.

TB finally has had enough. Zooms into the next lane.

Good move, except that lane slows down, and TB is going losing ground, not gaining.

I am mildly amused.

A couple of miles down the road, TB finally passes me - two lanes over. She has now gained back her 105 milliseconds, and is apparently going insane. Screaming, waving, one-finger salute, pounding on her window.

Me, I'm laughing my ass off.

She doesn't like that either, and goes apoplectic - best I can tell.

Tough.

Better . . .

. . . and better.

Just trying . . .

. . . to be helpful.

So, I'm walking through Kohls when a woman dropped one of the "unmentionables" she was carrying to checkout.

Perhaps I could have thought of a better phrase than: "Pardon me, ma'am, but you dropped your panties."

Perhaps not.

Ruminations . . .

. . . at random

Moving out
I knew it would take SOME red tape to effect my transfer to Naples, but the sheer volume is mind-boggling. So far, I have completed:

- Offer acceptance
- Transportation agreement
- Overseas suitability statement
- Military Extraterritorial Jurisdiction Act acknowledgement
- Transportation agreement
- Rotation agreement
- Permanent change of station questionnaire
- Certificate of medical examination
- Application for gov't employee passport

Next up: medical exams, passport submittal, receipt of orders, and God knows what else.

Christmas goodies
My elder son (the MD) has, for some time, been mildly obsessed with baking. That may be an understatement, because "mildly" is in neither his vocabulary nor his psyche. That aside, a package arrived to day with a dozen or more types of holiday confections. Fudge, several variations of cookies and cakes, and peanut brittle. The peanut brittle tastes exactly like that my mother made, something no one else has been able to accomplish. Of course, all this comes six weeks into my "lose a bit of weight and get more fit" program. I am greatly tempted, but after shedding 10 lbs, I have made a solemn vow to have no more than one per day - and not necessarily every day.

Black and Tan
Having failed miserably at making a black and tan, I bought a couple of "cheaters" from Bass. I sent one to Ian also.

I'm dying to try it, but then there's the "lose some weight and get fit" program, which is not compatible with mass quantities of stout and ale.

Well, maybe just one . . .

I can see clearly now . . .

. . . says Mrs. B

At least she will after January. Mrs. Bulldog will be having cataract surgery on one eye on 06 JAN 2010, and the second three weeks later.

Amazingly, it's outpatient surgery. In and out with an eye patch.

I'm saving up comments like: "Arrrrrgh matey, where's me grog?"

If you don't hear from me after January 6, she didn't think it was funny.