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I'm a software developer working mainly in Ruby/Rails for now. I have a kickass wife and an almost-as-awesome cat. I post mad photos to Flickr and you're welcome to follow me on Twitter if you like.
It took me awhile, but I finally saw Let the Right One In. Short, quick review: I didn’t love it and I was bored at times, but ultimately it was a pretty decent vampire movie. I read that Matt Reeves is re-adapting his version from the book (the original material), so I’m fairly intrigued by that. What I want to talk about here, though, is the ending, and I can’t do that without spoiling the hell out of everything. So don’t read on if you have any intention of seeing it in the future.
For most of my erstwhile “career” in organized baseball—roughly first grade through middle school—I played right field and batted at the bottom of the order. You know, the place where you stick the kid who is no good at sports.
At some point, I decided I wanted a larger hand in the proceedings, so I tried being a catcher. I wasn’t very good at that either, but I stuck with it because it was more fun that picking dandelions and waiting for a fly ball.
My single finest moment as a catcher came on a play at the plate. I don’t remember the score or the inning, but I recall a runner coming at me from third and the ball arriving from about the same direction. I knelt in front of the plate and received the ball as the runner slid into my left leg. I tagged him. The umpire called him out.
“You’re not supposed to block the plate, you dickweed!” This from the guy who just failed to score.
“Dickweed? I must have messed up!” I thought. I started to apologize, but it was the third out and I headed back to our bench instead. I felt terrible. After sulking for a bit, I went over to talk to Dad. “He called me a dickweed, Dad. I shouldn’t have blocked the plate. I messed up.”
He had no idea what I was talking about. “No, you are supposed to block the plate! You did great!” He patted me on the back. Still, the “dickweed” comment haunted me. Why would he call me that if I hadn’t messed up?
I don’t remember a feeling of elation upon tagging the runner out, just the disappointment when he called me a dickweed.
My time in organized team sports ended shortly thereafter.
Much of the flavor of chicken, steak, potstickers, green beans, garlic, and apples comes from the very fact that they do partially stick to the pan. That’s where rich, caramely goodness comes from.
Everything Neven said, but especially this. We recently replaced most of our nonstick pans with All Clad and just about everything we cook has better flavor now. I don’t even recognize our Swedish Meatballs anymore: they are that much better.
"JMU officials recommend students use a quiet area of campus to study and are providing students with earplugs to help block out the noise."
Rather than defer demolition of half of the football stadium until after Finals, JMU is plowing ahead immediately after the last game of the season. Strong work.
Valley Lodge - All of my Loving
Valley Lodge is one of my favorite bands that you’ve never heard of. If you are looking for some great power pop, their first record will brighten your Monday morning.