Utter Bloggish Blanditude

Having to work yesterday (I shouldnʼt sound negative about earning some cash by getting to act as a substitute teacher, which is far easier than doing the actual job, although packing the surprise element of not knowing until shortly before you do it that you are giving up a day or a week to school), I didnʼt get a chance to get online until about 6:00 PM. And just as I was checking over the Darkness at the Edge of Town post (and finding a few things to correct, late), Qwest of course kicked out, stranding me offline as I was attempting to upload the revisions. Naturally.

So I went downstairs to flip off the modem for a full minute or so and then turn it back on (Qwestʼs only recommended fix for their incompetence), and while I waited for the necessary time to pass, I flipped on the TV to get the weather forecast for tomorrow and the next week, catching the very end, which gave me the excruciating anti-opportunity afterward of having to endure Gary Metevier lamely making small talk about the temperatures. Some producer or director should tell that man to just shut up. His pseudo-folksy mushmouthisms (“wut are polltishunsʼre doonʼ in Warshunʼun” — if you can decode that set of written substitutes for the goofy sounds we try to decipher every weekenight) already appeared for criticism in a post; his lame, embarrassing unscripted chat is as bad or worse. And this is a man whose heart is in the right place (I think), whom I would like to like. But his onscreen performance makes positive appreciation impossible.

Thursday night, KCRGʼs anchor Bruce Aune (looking much older than I had imagined — we donʼt get Cedar Rapids local channels on DirecTV) hosted the gubernatorial debate. Listening to him speak, I realized how deeply we miss getting KCRG as our ABC local, rather than the true (and unwatchable) ineptitude of WQAD. The Lovely One and I had discussed our emphasis on NBC and CBS shows as this new season began, realizing we really never watch anything on ABC; that is because WQAD is so weak (as if WHBF is any better). Aune made me sharply aware of the dopey, flawed and awkward falsity of the already identified anchor on our NBC local news. (And I neatly dodged out of just ranting about Qwestʼs constant interruptions, unfortunately without avoiding a whiny tone of complaint.)

Then I made pizza for supper. You see, this is the Festivus weekend. Janet is gone, visiting her sister Diane in Milwaukee. She headed off at noon on Thursday from work (so we had bid each other farewell that morning), not to return until late Sunday morning. Thatʼs why I was able to stay up until midnight on Thursday to finish and post yesterdayʼs addition to the blog (and why Iʼll probably be up late yesterday and tonight as well). Thatʼs why I am even more obsessed than usual with what I have to eat (because itʼs all my own choices and entirely up to me to create). I had imagined pizza for this weekend for a fortnight, and then The Lovely One had generously decided to go to Genoʼs last Sunday. So I had enjoyed pizza already this week, darn it. But working at Andrew Community School yesterday I decided pizza still made the best (and most pleasant) sense for Friday night, too.

I had written checks to pay bills while sitting at the teacherʼs desk watching students work (actually just one student, as his peers took two periods for mandated NCLB testing, for which he needed only the scheduled time), and I resolved to deliver most of those bills-with-payments and save a buck and a half in postage. So after those unpleasant and impoverishing deliveries I just headed off to Fareway and Aldi for the needed groceries (fresh mushrooms, black olives, roma tomatoes, a red pepper, onions and goat cheese — the last of which I sadly couldnʼt find in town) before driving home after work. I immediately got busy chopping the veggies and then mixed dough (whole wheat, mostly homemade, thank you very much). Only then, about 5:45 or so did I start the computer and check messages and try to get to work. Thatʼs when Qwesty unservice reared its ugly noggin and gave me some irritated inspiration for this post.

Once I came back upstairs from restarting the modem, I stopped in the kitchen to press out the dough in a baking pan and then scatter the layers of ingredients and finally cheese to make the pizza, popping it into a 400° oven as I returned to type the first paragraphs here before the expiration of the baking time (a few short of twenty minutes). And then I headed back down to the family room to eat some huge slices (not quite half of what I had made) while watching more TV (sadly, or not, I chose to view the entirety of The Promise: The Making of Darkness at the Edge of Town, my subject yesterday, rerun on HBO after Thursday nightʼs premiere; I enjoyed Springsteenʼs thoughtful and profound comments even more my second time around, and the contemporary performance of “Darkness on the Edge of Town” that concludes the documentary, behind the credits, is killer). Then washing up and back to the office to complete what you get here.

I believe I may have just sunk to a new low in utter blog blandness. Letʼs see what I devise later today for tomorrow and some of the posts next week (around serving my time as an official helper at community theatre auditions this afternoon, when I hope I have the opportunity to memorize more Picasso lines).

I think I am missing The Lovely One…

©2010 John Randolph Burrow, Magickal Monkey Enterprises, Ltd, S.A.

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