Rants, raves and vaguely intellectual musings on life, the universe and everything. • Journalism, sports and movies with things that go "Boom!" • Reading, writing and as little 'rithmetic as humanly possible. • Surveys galore about me-me-me. • Plus the Civil War. And monkeys.
The Rim Editor
Ace
Sussex County, New Jersey, United States
Career journalist. Lifelong Raiders fan. Husband and father of two. And, sometimes, just a tiny little munkee in a great big world.
But why that particular title? Well, it's what I did for most of my (regular) career. To wit:
... my job on the desk that night was as a "rim" editor, which meant I edited stories, made any trims in length necessary, and wrote headlines and cutlines ...
Hit the title above to go straight to it and get the two-disc set for only $20. A bargain at twice the price, I tell you. Or click on over to the "Dead Hunt" or Timewarp MySpace pages for more information.
And don't forget to hit the links at the top of the page to read the first review (from HorrorTalk) and see the trailer.
You won't be disappointed, I promise. My horror-reviewing friends like it. I like it. Even my mother likes it!
Look for it soon at Amazon.com and elsewhere, too.
But now I can say I've done it. The joy of owning a single-family home instead of a townhouse.
It's funny. I never mowed the lawn growing up, mostly because I was a little kid (physically) and my parents have a tiered lawn on a hill. I think the image of a 90-pound kid trying to haul a mower down narrow rock steps scared my poor mother.
So they paid some landscaping types to mow their lawn, and eventually I think they got them to mow the neighbors' lawn when they neglected it.
(My lawn was starting to look like that, but we'll get back to this point in a moment.)
Anyway, after that, I went off to college (dorm rooms!), then lived in a series of apartments until I was nearly 28, then it was my townhouse in Hillsborough. Yeah, complete with extortive association fee and the subsequent lawn care.
But now, at last Marisa and I are mostly settled in, and had a free day, and that's how we found ourselves on the front lawn this afternoon, sweating and swearing and... eventually having fun!
Plus, our lawn no longer resembles the neighbors' where I kept losing Wiffle balls in the jungle.
Even if I damn near encountered my second-worst nightmare - after running over a member of the family - and just missed a baby bunny sleeping in the tall grass.
Twice.
It was a rough start - the grass was so tall it kept jamming the blade, and thus killing the motor - but eventually, after trying mulch mode and bag mode, I went with spew-out-the-side mode and got 'er done.
In fact, the more I tried, the easier it got, as I developed something vaguely resembling a technique. I probably did 75% of the lawn in two hours after taking two hours on the first 25%.
(Fair disclosure: We still have to rake up the spewings.)
M is making another loaf of her from-scratch sourdough bread! My favorite kind of bread, and she makes delicious loaves by hand. From scratch.
I can't begin to tell you (or her) just how amazed I am by all of that. I mean, I know she can cook good food, and I love everything she makes, but the whole concept of the sourdough starter amazes me. And she made it herself, and she nurtures it, and then she makes delicious bread from it.
It's one thing to aspire to be a little Domestic Goddess in Training, to me it's something even more impressive to take up a project that requires not just skill, but dedication.
I can barely make anything, or stick with anything, but I see that little pot in the fridge and I just adore her even more.
OK, sappy, yes, but come on. After she did some branch-trimming, did a little mowing and walked the dog, she still had time to fill the house with one of the best smells in the world - fresh bread, baking.
That more than makes up for the sore back and aching shoulder.
I know I haven't posted in a while. It just hasn't been in the cards. Or the mood. Or the schedule.
We were away for a few days (boy, was it weird leaving my temporary voicemail saying I'd be back "Tuesday, Sept. 11"), and then all hell broke loose at work, and then Marisa went back to school.
So basically I've been tired and cranky and miserable.
But as soon as I think of a suitable topic, I'll get back to things. I almost posted yesterday, but basically it was just loneliness talking, so I didn't bother and watched TV instead.
The tragic British '90s playwright Sarah Kane's five plays (and one short teleplay) range in quality and tolerability, but all have moments of sheer brilliance. Kane's final play, "4.48 Psychosis," derided as a 75-minute suicide n...
A fine brigade-level history from the Gettysburg scholar Gottfried, the former president of Sussex County Community College in New Jersey (the county in which I reside). "Kearny's Own" looks at the First New Jersey, which fought t...
I had never even heard of, much less read, any "City Comedies" of the English Renaissance before my recent class on Early Modern literature. I was very pleasantly surprised by this collection of four prominent works in the genre. ...
Michael Lewis' book (now a hit movie) takes two paths: A look at the evolution of the left tackle position in the NFL, and a look at how a poor boy from the bad side of Memphis, Michael Oher, found his way into the home and hearts of the we...
yet, but it's on my shelf and list.
