A New Year, But and Old Coot

Hey y'all once again it's been some time since I hollered at you. Last year I started off my new season of bloggetry with a recap of the previous year. I took the first post of each month and gave a brief summary. I'd like to do that again but it's rather time consuming so I'll have to get to it a little later. For now I'm going to give you a little New Year writeup.

---

Cashew Brittle Started and Ended Late

This year I was going to be ringing in the new year at the J&BC compound up in Windsor. If you've ever met me, you know that I like to cook/bake, and typically have some tasty concoction to titillate even the most stubborn taste buds. The problem with the way I cook/bake is that I do so without regard for what others can or cannot eat. My policy has been that if you can't eat what I make, it's your loss. Since J&BC have fed me approximately a thousand meals in the last year, and JC is unable to eat much more than air and water, I thought I'd bring something he would be able to enjoy.

After perusing some online recipes at AllRecipes, I found a holiday treat that contains no wheat products whatsoever - Peanut Brittle. Not being one to stick to traditional recipes, I thought I'd give that a whirl but substitute cashews for the peanuts. If peanut brittle is good, cashew brittle has to be better. If there's someone out there who doesn't like cashews I've never met him.

By the time I got around to making the cashew brittle it was about 2:45 AM on Sunday morning. A late start, but I was wired from chocolate covered espresso beans so there was no cause for concern. My favorite part of this candy treat was that I got to use my candy thermometer. The sugar mixture had to be cooked to exactly 300 degrees F (or degrees Candy as I called it since I was using a candy thermometer and it was wicked late) before adding the butter and baking soda and pouring out onto a greased cookie sheet. If we learned anything from the 80s drug scene, it's that you need baking soda to make things crack.

So on New Year's Eve, my cashew brittle went untouched for the entire night. At 12:45 I was prepared to bring it back home and drown my culinary sorrows into the sugary deliciousness when the frenzy began. The next thing I knew there was nothing left but crumbs, sweet sweet crumbs.

---

Slow But Steady Wins the Race

Well, it may not win the race but at least it beats death. The rain we got Sunday night turned into one large sheet of ice on the hilltown roads. Of course, the Tinsel Wagon didn't really notice it due to its superb All-Wheel-Drive, but it's not acceleration you're worried about in those conditions, it's deceleration (which, to the true nerds out there, is just a negative acceleration). When the SUV ahead of me decided to "test" his brakes I almost rear-ended him (or her, but we'll assume for the sake of the story that it was a dude). I ended up on the other side of the road a few times to avoid rear-ending this yahoo. Thanks pal.

In the end, it was nice that someone made me slow down to such a ridiculously slow speed. Honestly, 12 MPH is a bit slow for a road with a posted limit of 55 but since I had nowhere to be I chose slow and steady over hurrying to the grave. Mom, you're welcome.

---

Big Sis Booster Shot

Big ups to my sister who came through with some siblingly advice for your humble narrator. I believe she ended her pep talk with "Chin up, buckeroo." so you know her speech was TIZIGHT!

---

Work is Mad Boring

Two weeks of vacation and work is still wicked boring. Nuff said.

---

I'm Going, Going, Back, Back to AZ, AZ

Like the late great Notorious B.I.G. said, I'm going back to AZ. Well, he was going back to Cali but A) I've never been there once to be able to go "back" and 2) I'm not going to Cali, I'm going to AZ.

In case you haven't heard, I'm going to be running in the Rock 'n' Roll (Half) Marathon. I was wicked tempted to sign up for the full marathon but that would be an injury waiting to happen. Instead, I'm going to run the half which is still 13.1 miles. For those of you who don't regularly run that far, the shit is far.

I'm shooting for a time of 1:46, which is around an 8:00 mile. If you don't know about paces, that's way slower than the good people run it. However, it's a HUGE race with tens of thousands of people all of whom will undoubtedly be in my way. Experience has taught me that fighting your way through a crowd is both tiring and hardly worth it. Therefore, I'm going to shoot for a time of 1:46 (that's an hour and forty-six minutes).

Old Coot, where did you come up with 1:46? Why not 1:45? It comes from a guy named Lasso and his famous 800s. His theory is that if you can run 8-800s at some pace, you'll be able to take the minutes and seconds and determine your marathon pace. For example, if you can run 8-800 meter laps around a track at 3:25 (three minutes and 25 seconds), you'll be able to run a marathon in three hours and 25 minutes. Since I'm doing a half, I figure I can safely divide my 800m times in half and go with that. Realistically I should be faster than that, but since it's my first half marathon and I'll be in a strange land with strange heat and strange sunlight, I'm going to play it safe.

---

PRRRRRR, PRRRRRRR

If you've ever been in a situation where I'm looking for you, you'll know that I make bird calls to get people's attention. That's how I roll, you better recognize. Last night I was out for a late night 8-mile glute busting hill run when I saw an an elderly couple was getting into their car. Over my hip-hop blasting headphones I heard what I thought was the sound of a bird yelling at me. Sho nuff it was this old man making bird calls at me.

Ya HUUURRRD!

I promptly put one fist in the air and yelled "Hey, how you doin'?" to his old ass.

My theory is that people all over Berkshire County have been hearing me making bird calls. Teenagers have picked up on it, MTV has picked up on it, a shiny, baggy-pantsed rapper named Birdman has taken it as his catch phrase and even hip old folks use it to connect with todays youth. And to connect with me.

I'm a trend setter, bitches!

---

Well Cooterinos, I'm sorry for the extended delay in my blogging but it was for the best. I have unpublished drafts awaiting publication, but they are so sub par that I've determined they will never see the light of your Cathode Ray Tubes (or LCDs).

Over and Out,
Old Coot

P.S. I hope to be back in full effect, it's been a struggle the last month but as my big sister pointed when she dropped motivating wisdom bombs on my dome piece, "we'll soon be at the top looking down".

P.P.S. If you receive Berkshire Living magazine, you need to check it out for pictures of yours truly as a doorman. For the record, the numbskulls spelled my name wrong.