There were a few things I've wanted to mention, but I really didn't have the motivation to do so today. Then, I found out that it was Fight Procrastination Day, and I figured I could get it together to ramble on about a few things.
First off, I was always a fan of Steve Irwin. I used to watch the show a lot. As a kid, I grew up with Marlin Perkins and Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom, as well as any National Geographic Shows I could find. They were interesting, and I loved to learn about animals.
But then, along came The Crocodile Hunter. Steve Irwin was the Johnny Knoxville of nature shows. He taught you about animals in a much more exciting way, by placing himself in what appeared to be harm's way. He knew what he was doing, though, and although you knew he would always be able to escape the croc's jaws in time, there was always that thrill, that adrenaline ruch that maybe, just maybe, this time he wouldn't.
And then, one time he didn't.
It doesn't matter that it was a stingray, or that it was a freak accident, eventually things caught up with him. Regardless of his skill or knowledge, it was bound to happen in his line of work They say you're more likely to die in a car accident than be killed by terrorists, but if you hang out with terrorists all day, I bet it skews the odds.
So it was really tragic, and I think that the world has lost a great entertainer, one who taught kids about the world, nature and conservation while at the same time making them scream in a giddy sort of terror.
Those of you that read Life In The Pumpkin Shell are Familiar with this Pickles. That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about real pickles - the kind that we spent all day Monday canning. Making pickles is a smelly, labor-intensive process, and nobody in their right mind should do it. It's expensive, the house smells vinegary for days after, and there is no instant gratification. It's weeks before you even know if they're any good.
Still, that's what we did for over 12 hours on Monday. It felt good. It felt like the way summer should be brought to an end. It felt like tradition.
Nobody would ever make their own pickles unless they wanted to, or they had to. And it felt like we were carrying on the traditions of our ancestors, preserving the summer's harvest to last all winter (nevermind that our harvest came from the farmer's market, not from the sweat of our brows or the bounty of our lands), just to have the energy to plant again in spring.
I will say that the most satisfying part of pickles (other than eating them, which won't happen for quite some time) is that tiny metallic *ping!* that echoes through the house as the jars cool and they begin to seal. The *ping* is an integral part of the process; it means that you've canned them right, and even if they taste awful, at least they won't kill you.
So, I'll let you know how they taste in a few weeks, but until then, we have tomatoes to can...
The Bacon Wallet
In a way that made me feel really hip, people started blogging all over about the bacon wallet a few weeks ago, like these posts here and here. I felt particularly hip because I bought one in Seattle weeks prior at the world's greatest store, Archie Mcphee.
I think this makes me a sort of trendsetter, even if it's a geeky trend...
If you want a bacon wallet of your own, go to the source. Go to Archie for it.
Abishag and children were over at my house for hot dogs this weekend, and as their little dog ran about the backyard chasing and being chased by Shane, it came up that he had stolen a drumstick from her daughter a few nights prior. Her daughter was bummed because it had been the last.
We joked briefly about the leg being the best part of a chicken, and how it was a shame that they only had two. Then I forgot about it.
Until I saw this story.
A four-legged chicken was born in New Zealand.
Now, you all know how much I enjoy the discovery of new animals to be eaten, so I wonder if there isn't a way to breed chickens this way. According to the story, it's happened before (and in fact, I remember a story on The Daily Show years ago where it was pointed out that it looked like they had taken one chicken and simply shoved it up another chicken's ass).
I can't find anyone mentioning that they've eaten one of these chickens or discussing the possibility of breeding them.
Just think, though, if there were two more legs on the table. It would resolve more than a few arguements, I'm sure,
Link to story
One Hell Of A Souvenir
So this guy from the UK goes on vacation in Ireland and dies of a heart attack. They perform an autopsey and send him back to the UK. When he gets to the UK, they discover he's got an extra heart and lungs thrown inside him.
Do they just have extras lying around over there? Are they used like packing peanuts to keep his own guts from rattling about during shipping?
It's just a bit odd, don't you think? Link
So, that's all I have right now. Until next time, have a happy Fight Procrastination Day, and be sure to do something you don't feel like doing!