Better Late...Yet Again

So. Last Friday I said the Stars would have to get better than they were in Game One of the conference finals or the Wings would register another sweep in these playoffs. The Stars did get better…much better, in fact… in Saturday evening’s 2-1 loss to the Wings. Yet still, the Stars are down 0-2 in this series, and while that’s not exactly an insurmountable obstacle, it’s pretty bad. But Dallas played with a lot more fire Saturday, if not discipline and concentration. Tonight’s game will be very interesting… assuming the ice is in decent shape, which is doubtful…given the temps in Dallas today. But the ice will be bad for both teams…that’s the way it goes. I’m expecting at least one fluky goal, if not more.

As for the Wings, they’ve won their last eight games in a row… and that’s a significant accomplishment at any time in the season, let alone in the playoffs. A cause for worry, too, coz as the smart guys tell us: “You can’t win ‘em all.” Michael Rosenberg discusses this very subject in his column in today’s Freep. Excerpt:

Saturday night, after the Red Wings wrapped up their eighth straight playoff win, I asked Nick Lidstrom if he realized this couldn't go on forever. His answer was the verbal equivalent of a delay-of-game penalty. He obviously wasn't going to say the Wings could win the rest of their games, but he wasn't going to concede that they will lose, either.

Perfectly understandable. But the fact is that the Wings are not going to win another six in a row. That would be superhuman. As it is, their eight-game winning streak is their best playoff run since at least 1995, when they also won eight in a row (and lost in the Stanley Cup Finals to the New Jersey Trapping Devils).

Turbulence is coming. What matters is how the Wings handle it. Sometimes in sports, teams are so dominant that when they finally get knocked down, they can't remember how to get back up. (In need of evidence? Check out the New England Patriots, the 1991 UNLV basketball team, the 1996 Red Wings, etc.)

These Wings certainly seem different. Their greatness is not built on one overwhelming aspect of their game, like the Patriots' offense was. It is built on being a complete team. They played the final two periods Saturday with a one-goal lead and never hesitated.

Good points, all. Especially the last. The Wings dealt with some low-level adversity Saturday when they lost their hottest player, Johan Franzen, to “concussion-like” symptoms. Yet the Wings’ game remained superb and you certainly couldn’t tell they missed The Mule, even though I’m sure they did. Franzen will be out for tonight’s game, as well. I expect another close game, and it just might be a lil bit chippy…based on what happened at the end of Game Two.

That’s not all bad, Gentle Reader. The best hockey happens when the opponents hate each other’s guts.

In other hockey news… the Flyers are down 0-2 to the Pens, but that series has been a lot closer than the won-lost numbers indicate. Game Two could have gone either way, and the series could be tied, for all intents and purposes. The series probably would be tied, were it not for the Flyers’ bad luck with injuries… but that’s playoff hockey. Stuff happens. It’s been entertaining to watch these guys go at it, at the very least.

―:☺:―

Susan Estrich, one of my very favorite people-I-love-to-hate actively dislike, has an interesting article today at Real Clear Politics. Excerpt:

Could Obama be another Dukakis?

It isn't just die-hard Clinton supporters who are pointing out the similarities. Even some Obama backers who believe that the nomination fight is over see the possible parallels, and are determined to avoid them, or at least try.

I was there. Mike Dukakis was (and is) a friend of mine. And so I can say that, while the danger is certainly worth recognizing, Barack Obama is no Mike Dukakis. Or at least he doesn't have to be.

There is no question that the Republicans will try to do to Obama what they did to Dukakis: paint him as a liberal, out of touch with the values of average (white) Americans, so far left that he has left America.

Isn’t it obvious, Sue? I mean really. There’s absolutely NO “painting” required here. Obama IS to the left of most Americans, he IS out of touch with the values of average Americans (nice play of the race card, BTW), and his ditzy wife…not to mention his spiritual and political mentors, but I will… are so far left they might could embarrass good ol’ Mr. Marx. That would be Karl, not Groucho. Or Harpo. Or any of the other Marx Bros, who were entertaining. Barack, OTOH, is simply irritating.

Don’t get me wrong… I respect Obama, and the man has certain gifts I wish the Republican candidate had. Those gifts…being personable, warm, and one of this country’s best orators… make him a formidable opponent. And a dangerous one, too. I don’t believe Senator McCain is taking Obama lightly, nor should he. But Obama has given McCain enough ammunition to allow McCain to prevail amongst thinking voters. It’s the “he’s just SO kewl!” voters and the Obama Girl clones we have to worry about. Nothing’s gonna get to them.

Coz it’s oh-so-very-hard to be kewl and smart at the same time. Or so Dad told me.

―:☺:―

Oh, Spare Me… Part Eleventy-Something. Blog-Bud Morgan goes on a great deal about this subject, and I hope I don’t cause him to burst a blood-vessel or something by posting this:

About six months after my son was born, he and I were sitting on a blanket in the park with a close friend and her daughter. It was a sunny summer weekend, and other parents and their children picnicked nearby. My friend and I, who, in fits of self-empowerment, had conceived our babies with donor sperm because we hadn’t met Mr Right, surveyed the idyllic scene.

“Ah, this is the dream,” I said, and we nodded in silence for a minute, then burst out laughing. In some ways, I meant it: we had both dreamt of motherhood, and here we were. But it was also decidedly not the dream. The dream, like that of our mothers and their mothers from time immemorial, was to fall in love, get married and live happily ever after. Of course, we’d be loath to admit it, but ask any soul-baring 40-year-old single heterosexual woman what she most longs for in life and she probably won’t tell you it’s a better career, a smaller waistline or a bigger apartment. Most likely, she will say that what she really wants is a husband (and, by extension, a child).

To the outside world, we still call ourselves feminists, and insist that we are independent, self-sufficient and don’t believe that damsel-in-distress stuff. In reality, however, we are women who want a traditional family. And, despite growing up in an era when the centuries-old mantra of getting married young was finally replaced by pursuit of high ideals (education, career, but also true love), every woman I know – no matter how successful and ambitious, how financially and emotionally secure – feels panic if she hits 30 and finds herself unmarried.

Oh, I know. I’m guessing there are single, 30-year-old women reading this right now who will write letters to the editor to say that I have no idea what I’m talking about. All I can say is, if you say you’re not worried, you’re either in denial or lying.

That’s just the first four grafs. It gets worse… or better, depending on your point of view. What we have here, basically, is yet another article telling women to “settle.” Don’t wait for Mr. Right, grab Mr. Nearly-Right and get on with it, in other words. Or: a recipe for disaster in most cases, especially where American women are concerned. Forgive me, but it’s my opinion that most women are never quite satisfied…there’s always “room for improvement” where Hubby is concerned, to put it kindly and mildly. As I said: this is my opinion, you’re free to have yours. And I’m sure you do.

But, back to the Times article. This is Really Bad Advice. Don’t settle…never settle. Still and even, the article is a good read, if only to gain insight into the mind of the 21^st Century Liberated Woman, Brit-style.

If you need that sort of thing.

(Image by Ariel Bordeaux, the creator of the comic 'Deep Girl' as well as the book 'No Love Lost' (1997), published by Drawn & Quarterly.)

A Re-Run

Only coz it's timely and appropriate... From last year:

Happy Mother's Day!

Ah…dog poop. Probably one of the (very) minor reasons my second marriage failed…coz The Second Mrs. Pennington was largely in charge of the particularly odious chore—following behind three dogs, including two pretty good-sized ones—let’s say about 90% of it. And she never hesitated to point out that fact to me. But then again, maybe not. TSMP killed both dogs that were left in our home the week she found out she was pregnant with SN3 (not literally, of course. The vet did the actual dirty work.) She left two years later and hadn’t picked up a whole helluva lot of dog poop…none, in fact… during the intervening time. But I digress. Even though there’s a story in there.

The Mom’s Day image comes from new-to-me blog TGAW…who has great pics of Glacier National Park, in addition to providing me with this “wouldn’t it be great but it would NEVER frickin’ happen in real life” Mom’s Day illustration. Thanks (ed: again!), TGAW Vicky!!

Remind me to write about Glacier…some day.

But, seriously. Happy Mother’s Day to all my favorite Moms, and even to those who aren’t my favorites. I’ll remain cryptic on that last.

“The Blog for Googlers”

I’m thinking of changing EIP’s tag line from “If a Lifetime Can Be Likened to a Day…” to “The Blog for Googlers.” Or something like it. Why, you ask? Just this (Click for larger, of course):

You’ll note that fully 52 out of the 80 selected visits today (we’re up to 136 visits as I write…an abnormally high number for a Saturday) were people coming around looking for Mothers Day cards, images, sayings, etc., etc. And that’s not counting the folks who came by looking for bullwhips or “chippy dinner,” whatever the Hell that is.

Blog-Bud Morgan has already laid claim to “the blog nobody reads” as his tag-line, so I can’t use that. Besides being unethical, it wouldn’t be entirely true…coz I am read by more than a few Googlers. Alternatively, I could rip off the Marines (“The Few. The Proud. The EIP Readers.”)... but pissing off big, healthy, physically-fit guys with guns (not mention tanks and Apaches) isn’t a very good idea.

Ah well. Drop-ins are better than no readers at all, eh?

The Clever and The Cute... In Exactly That Order

Dunno if you’ve seen this Heineken ad…but here’s your chance:

Good, innit? The ad, I mean. I’ll drink Heineken in a pinch, but I’ve never sampled their light beer. I’m philosophically opposed to the concept of “lite,” be it food, soft drinks, or what-have-you… but MOST especially when it comes to beer. The only decent acceptable light beer I’ve ever drank was Labatt Blue Light. And I didn’t make it a habit. But The Second Mrs. Pennington did…note the empties stacked in the corner of our garage, back in the day.

Now I’m NOT saying TSMP had an issue with alcohol or anything — far from it. She’s just a good ol’ gal who enjoys her beer. My kinda woman, in other words. But you knew that, Gentle Reader.

―:☺:―

Today’s Pic: Great grand-baby Taurean held at arm’s length by Mom Amanda, whom I’m sure was trying unsuccessfully to get out of the picture. The end result is you get all of Taurean and half of Amanda. More’s the pity, eh? I may be biased as all get-out, but I DO believe Amanda is as beautiful as any young woman I’ve ever seen. The girl has a killer smile!

And here you thought TSMP and SN3 was Today’s Pic… dint ya? Fooled ya.

Tales From the Front

Yesterday was about as close to a “computer-free” day as it gets around El Casa Móvil De Pennington. I wrote yesterday’s post the night before and used Blogger’s new scheduling feature to publish the post at oh-dark-thirty, or long before those visions of sugar plums had ceased dancing in my head (“Sugar plums” being a euphemism for this sort of thing, of course). Scheduling is pretty cool; I plan to make use of it more often.

So… once I was up and about I fired off the coffee, got cleaned up, had one cup here in the house, loaded up the travel mug, and made the short journey over to The Big(ger) City^TM where Baby got her nu shooz mounted (finally!) and I got a late breakfast at IHOP.

About IHOP… I was seated, scanned the menu quickly, and gave my order to the waitress, who, in turn, brought me coffee as I requested. “Do you take cream” she asks? “Yes, please,” sez I. “I’ll be back in a moment…” sez she. Well, a moment came and went, along with several other moments, until I noticed there was half and half on the table next to mine, so I just grabbed that and forgot about the waitress NOT bringing me my cream.

Fifteen minutes pass by, punctuated by two clue-free wait people trying to foist a burger plate and an order of chocolate chip pancakes off on me. “That’s not me,” sez I, on both occasions. Another ten minutes pass by and my order… a simple order: two eggs, two pancakes, bacon… finally arrives. My waitress informs me she’s gonna give me a ten percent discount coz my order took so long, and would there be anything else? “Yes. I’d like some more butter, please.” “OK. I’ll be right back.” She never returned, for the second time.

Note to IHOP waitress: your tip is with my cream and butter. Or somewhere near there.

Service: The Final Frontier.

―:☺:―

Since I happened to be in The Big(ger) City^TM I took the opportunity to get my cell phone reprogrammed. We’ve had an area code change here in New Mexico…our heretofore single, state-wide area code (505) being insufficient to support the explosive growth in cell phones. ABQ and Santa Fe get to keep their 505 numbers, but us country bumpkins must change to area code 575. And so we have. I sent out an “all-points” e-mail yesterday asking my telephone correspondents to update their speed-dial entries with my new number. This blog entry is just re-enforcement…

―:☺:―

I swung by the base on my way back to P-Ville with two objectives in mind: (a) get those scrips for the drugs I have to take prior to my surgery filled at the hospital clinic and (b) make my weekly visit to the commissary. I was half-successful… the commissary was open, the clinic was not.

I was shocked…and that is NOT too strong a word… to find the clinic closed for a “training day.” How, or why, is it the Air Force thinks it appropriate to close an entire facility, and most especially the clinic (!), for a training day? Can you not train half the folks one day and half the next? I think that’s the way we used to do these sorts of things, but I’m old and my memory just might be failing me. But I think not.

Bottom line: I have to return to the base today. I am NOT a Happy Camper about this. Yeah, it’s small stuff and I suppose I shouldn’t be pissed. But I am, Gentle Reader… I AM.

―:☺:―

A brief hockey update… Last night’s game was too easy for the Beloved Red Wings; they systematically dismantled Dallas and won by the lopsided score of 4-1. Dallas played a very undisciplined game for the first one and a half periods, and paid the price by surrendering three power-play goals... which is more than they gave up during their entire six-game series with the Sharks. Marty Turco is now 0-8-2 at The Joe. Chris Osgood, OTOH, played brilliantly and was in no small part responsible for the Wings’ win. Ozzie made some awesome saves last evening and is now 7-0 in the playoffs. Video highlights here.

This could be a very short series if the Stars continue to play as they did last night. Everyone in Dallas (and their Moms!) will point to Sunday night/Monday morning’s game as an excuse for the Stars dismal performance and there may be an ever-so-small grain of truth in that. The Stars did look lethargic and did an awful lot of standing around. We’ll see if there’s improvement in Dallas’ game this Saturday night.

You can get out the brooms if there isn’t.

Goat Entrails…

The ancient seers got nothin’ on modern-day sportswriters. Whereas the ancients killed a goat, a chicken, or other such domestic animal and examined the entrails for omens and signs, professional sportswriters turn to statistical analysis…which is much the same thing, minus the blood, gore, and stench. Case in point:

The Pittsburgh Penguins and Detroit Red Wings have positioned themselves best for the heavy lifting that will come, largely because they’ve managed to avoid a lot of heavy lifting through the first half of the playoffs.

And because of that, if history is any indicator, the Penguins and Red Wings will meet in the Stanley Cup final with the Penguins emerging as slight favorites at this point.

The fact Pittsburgh played three fewer games than the Philadelphia Flyers through the first two rounds and the Red Wings two fewer than the Dallas Stars might not seem like much, but history tells a different story.

There have been 20 playoffs since the league went to the four-round, best-of-seven format in 1987 and it has been proven time and again teams that get through the first two rounds quickly stand the best chance of winning the Stanley Cup.

[…]

As an aside, THN picked the Stars to defeat Detroit in this round over my vehement objections. And the reason we chose Dallas is the same reason why I’m choosing Detroit – Stars goalie Marty Turco.

Yes, Turco has been the star of the playoffs so far, but for some reason he has a serious mental block when playing at Joe Louis Arena. He comes into these playoffs with a 0-7-2 record as an NHLer at the Joe, which is odd considering the fact he was spectacular in the building as a college goalie with the University of Michigan. (ed: I just had to include this aside. Coz it’s semi-relevant to the issue at hand.)

Why is it I’m reminded of that ol’ “lies, damned lies, and statistics” saying? I’m not discounting either history or statistical analysis, mind you… I’m a big fan of both. But statistics don’t consider the intangibles, or the relative skill of the teams in question, and they can’t possibly reveal or even divine the most closely guarded information in the playoffs, which is the health of the teams in question, overall or individually. Aside from health, one of the keys to winning a championship in any sport is “Who wants it most?” Sure, everyone wants to win and no one wants to lose. But the guys that want it most are the guys that usually take it home. That’s been proven time and time again, to quote our guy from The Hockey News. Still and even, it’s fun to read the tea leaves… or rather someone else’s interpretation of what those leaves…or entrails… may or may not be saying.

We’ll know soon enough.

―:☺:―

Islamic garden? Really?

Location

Continent: Europe
Country: Romania (Facts)
State/Region: Iasi
City: Iasi

Language: English (U.S.)
Time of Visit: May 7 2008 10:06:59 am
Last Page View: May 7 2008 10:06:59 am
Visit Length: 0 seconds
Page Views: 1
Referring URL: http://images.google...1%26hl%3Dro%26sa%3DG
Search Engine: images.google.ro
Search Words: islamic garden collage

Our googler clicked through on this image:

You may draw your own conclusions, Gentle Reader.

Broadening Our Horizons

I decided to “take the air” yesterday afternoon and have a sit outside in the fading sun and brisk breeze, accompanied by my usual sidekicks… a good beer and a great cee-gar. Here’s the crew, just before we stepped outside to enjoy the air.

Pictured is New Belgium Brewery’s Trippel ale, a Belgian-style ale. The folks at Beer Advocate give it a B+, and one of their “star” reviewers gave it an A-. Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking the language of beer criticism (and food. and wine.), I’ll defer to the Brothers:

Presentation: 12 oz brown bottle with a best before date on the side of the label. Info about the brewery and beer are on the label as well. One ounce of beer was left in the bottle with the dregs as to not cloud the brew.

Appearance: Right away two fingers of froth appear in the chalice, clinging lace is witnessed and in very good shape. Bubbly golden, looks like a tame brut.

Smell: Peaches and roses … very aromatic, phenols and a melon like fruitiness round out the aroma as well.

Taste & Mouthfeel: Super crisp with a yeast palate right from the get go, not overwhelming but it is there. Light maltiness of doughy biscuits and harsh husk. Some busy phenols throw down a mix of herbal and medicinal magic with a touch of hop bitterness to boot. Vaguely fruity; starch plantains and faint peach. A breath of alcohol in the finish. The bitterness lingers for a good while into the after taste.

Notes: Very refreshing with the 8.5% abv being slightly hidden, quite the palate cleanser. Cabot has this Parmesan Cheddar blend, a perfect match with some mini rye bread. If you are into Trippels this is a must try, IMO this is a good stepping stone to jump into the vast world of Belgian Beer.

(ed: Click the image to the left for a larger view of the label. How could you not love a beer with a label like this?)

Well. I can’t write like that, Gentle Reader, nor can I draw appropriate comparisons (“Peaches and roses … very aromatic, phenols and a melon like fruitiness…”) when it comes to beer. Nevertheless, I like Trippel. A lot.

My previous excursions into that “vast world of Belgian Beer” have not been noteworthy. I’ve sampled several Belgian lambic beers, most notably the fruit (raspberry and strawberry) variants, and I was less than impressed. Fruit and beer just don’t go together, IMHO. The Belgian beers I sampled…real Belgians, as opposed to “Belgian-style”…also had a sourness about them. “Sour,” as a dominant characteristic, has never been high on my list of qualities to be admired in a beer…any beer…and “sour” was the prominent feature of every Belgian-style beer I’d ever encountered. That was several…make that many… years ago, and I’d never had the inclination to try again. Until just recently, that is, and I’m glad I mustered whatever was required to re-visit the genre. I strongly suspect the recipe for New Belgium’s Trippel has been massaged to fit American tastes, and I’m quite alright with that…coz the result is great. Trippel will join the usual, customary, and (quite) reasonable beer inventory in the fridge at El Casa Móvil De Pennington.

Oh. And the cee-gar? One of those recently-acquired Partagas Spanish Rosados. Very tasty. That cee-gar, by the way, is sitting in an antique ashtray… if one considers something from the 1940s as an antique…which sat on my father’s nightstand as far back as I can remember, and probably a lot further than that, if we’re speaking truth. Nonetheless, this ashtray is one of my prized possessions.

And, apropos of nothing… I liked the beer and the pic well enough to make it my new wallpaper. The Second Mrs. Pennington has been fired. That was a long time coming…