Old Wine Tales

Treasa and I have started a new blog. Read about our love of wine (and food) at Old Wine Tales.
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Cheeeeeeeese!

There are certain times where it just makes sense to pay a professional to do a job right. For a great variety of things, I’m the man you call to get results. But intrinsic in my skill set is an understanding of my own limitations. For instance, I’ll solicit the services of an accountant, a lawyer and a plumber, and yesterday, you can add a top notch photographer to the list.

Mother sent Timothy down to meet me. Whereas I can avoid detection, trail a mark, and gain access to areas without leaving a trace, taking pictures good enough for facial recognition software isn’t something I have on my resume.

Timothy and I met downtown and trailed our targets as they ran Sunday morning errands. While they made a trip to the ATM, a hair cut for him, nails for her and lunch at a burger place, Timothy was click-click-clicking away with his multi thousand dollar camera. I kept my truck from drawing attention.

He seemed to be pleased with the lighting and how the depth of the backgrounds complimented the subject matter, or something. His mood turned sour when we followed them back to their home, a working horse farm. At the thought of walking his white suede, leather soled dress shoes through the woods and a field or two to gather intelligence, he threw his hands up and exclaimed something to the effect of, ‘Oh, they’re last season’s style anyway.’

The layout of the property was all in the dossier. The fact that he knew that the couple lived on a horse farm and that we’d follow them there, and that he still chose to wear those shoes made me reason that his pictures must be really good to outweigh his complete absentmindedness.

A bluff of trees, two fields, and two now brown suede, leather soled shoes later, we had the pictures we needed. I brought Timothy back to his car and went home to cook dinner:

Sear seasoned chicken thighs in enameled cast iron dutch oven in butter and oil.
Set remove chicken, set aside and sauté chopped onion and garlic in oil.
Dump last sip of beer into dutch oven to deglaze stuck-on chicken goodness.
Add parsley, thyme, crushed red pepper, and a good dash of personal spice blend.
Add two cans of low fat, low sodium chicken broth and bring to a simmer.
Add chicken back to dutch oven and simmer until just shy of done.
Remove chicken thighs and add box of orzo. Add water if necessary.
Chop was-frozen-now-partially-microwaved spinach and add to ducth oven.
When orzo is almost done, reintroduce chicken thighs.
Top with parmesan cheese and devour.

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I Am Not Your Mother

Okay, I’m really tired and I’m having trouble making accurate sense of my observations.

- The guy at work who turned on a dime as soon as came around the corner while taking my lunch to the microwave was not avoiding me, just probably someone who forgot something at his desk.
- The telephony services van driving through the parking lot, occupied by two males, was probably not a tactical team meant to stalk me, but rather just doing work on the building.
- The guy at the grocery store moving the pallet jack of A&W Root Beer was not trying to impede my movement, he was traversing the soda aisle.

Of course I took all of these potential threats seriously, as you would if your life depended on it. But typically my point in time judgment is a bit more accurate.

Speaking of the grocery store, I’m making pasta carbonara for dinner. I sort of lied in the comments section of that link. I couldn’t wait until the weekend to try the dish. And I don’t know Carla personally, but anyone who lists sharp knives, cast iron, and small dogs for cleaning as topics of interest wins a spot among my blog bookmarks.

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All You Can Eat

Luckily, the power didn’t go out during the most recent snowfall. It was a few flakes over a foot this time. I knew I would be snowed in, so my strategy was preparedness and supply conservation.

Obviously I bought enough beer and bourbon to hold me through a few days of snow induced house arrest, but food would be another issue.

Essentially, food provisions boil down to two types: those you have to heat up, and those you don’t. You can find a box of pasta on sale at the grocery store for about a dollar. But without power, you can’t boil the water to cook it. Same goes for raw meats and frozen food items. Note that for the purposes of this explanation, I’m ignoring the potential of cooking with cast iron in the fireplace.

The second food category consists of items you can eat ‘as is.’ Raw veggies, fruit, nuts, most canned goods, bread, and as was my diet for the last day, deli meats, are all good expamples. During the early part of the storm, while power was on, I ate items from the first category to sustain my stash of those in the second. I was eating food that required power to prepare in case later on, if I had lost power, I still had food to eat that didn’t require electricity to prepare.

Of course, items like deli meats are in category 2 in the winter and category 1 in the summer because they require refrigeration. If power had gone out, I could have kept my ham and swiss from spoiling by placing them inside a large cooler, i.e. my front porch. My only concern then would be whether I had a ham sammy or a ham-and-swiss popsicle.

Luckily, I didn’t have to rely on my preparation this time. The key, though, is that I could have if I needed to.

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Colonel Mustard, In The Study, With The Maglite

It’s supposed to be in the low teens tonight. Treasa is over for a roaring fire, my renowned meat sauce, a bottle of cabernet and 24 episodes into the wee hours of tomorrow. Also making the trip are her two German Shorthaired Pointers, Brogan, the male, and Rohan, whose name is pronounced like what you do in a canoe, the female.



In so far as the truck break-in fallout is concerned, I have two potential avenues to track my prey. First, are fingerprints. These, unfortunately, are not an option. I made the decision not to dust for prints. How could I explain myself, a supposed banker, possessing a CSI kit and combing for forensic evidence?

Secondly, is the GPS itself. The thing about a GPS is that in order for it to give you directions to where you need to go, a computer has to know where you are. If a computer knows where the GPS unit is, I can track it. Unfortunately, I can only track it if it’s powered on. It’s hasn’t shown up on the grid yet. This either means that I’ve been targeted and my attacker has disposed of the GPS, or the junkie that took it hasn’t found a buyer yet. Time will tell.

This whole ordeal has me thinking about home security though. If someone had broken into my truck during the holiday season, one could surmise that they were looking for presents left in a vehicle and happened to stumble on my GPS. A vehicle break-in this time of year brings into question my, and Treasa’s, safety in my home.

This highlights the necessity of keeping everyday household items placed around your house that can also be used as weapons in the event of a home invasion. For the sake of this discussion, I’ll leave out firearms. They should always be locked in a safe, and therefore, may not be the best thing to rely on if your life depends on your actions within the next few seconds.

Bedroom: I keep a Maglite flashlight on my bed stand. Not only great for when power goes out, but Maglite’s also make good weapons.

Maglite flashlights have been known to be used as mêlée weapons. On March 30, 2007, the Los Angeles Police Department announced that they would be switching to a smaller, lighter LED flashlight that cannot be used as batons, in response to a highly publicized incident where an officer was accused of using excessive force against a suspect by using a Maglite

Kitchen: Obviously, cutlery is a good choice. However, your attacker will know about that as well. I keep a large pair of scissors in a drawer, they also serve as a good impaling device. Silverware. Cast iron skillets. My favorite ones are made by Lodge.

Dining Room: Candle stick holders will do a nice job when struck with force against a forehead. Also, break the bowl off of a wine glass, and the stem and foot will stab quite well.

Garage: Hammers, screw drivers, saws, nail guns…all this should be pretty obvious. What’s not, however, is a plumb bob. Consider the plumb bob the Lowe’s equivalent of a medieval mace.

Living Room: Fire place set. Maglite by the television.

Office: Letter opener. Any pen or pencil. Scissors. A stapler also can serve as a nice interrogation device should you capture your trespasser.

Others: Dog leashes. If a 13 year old girl in Saudi Arabia can get 90 lashes over a possessing a cell phone, your dog’s leash can serve as a weapon.

By no means is this an exhaustive list. I didn’t list the variety of pocket knives and Leatherman mini tools I own. You can be certain I’ll be looking to strategically place additional items around my house within the next coming days.

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At Least It Wasn't Raining

Sometimes your days just don’t go as planned. Today, I woke up at my normal time, took a shower, poured a cup of coffee and got ready to drive in to work. Everything was going along just fine until I went to get in my truck. Someone, it seems, decided that my GPS, residing inside my vehicle, would be much better suited belonging to someone else. The only thing between them and my GPS was the locked door and the driver side window. The window proved to be the path of least resistance and, apparently, didn't put up much of a fight.


My neighbor had just detailed his car yesterday and said he had hand prints on his windows, indicating that the perp’ had gone from car to car looking for a nice score. This, for any tax paying citizen, would be a small comfort because it indicated that I had not been targeted directly and had just gotten unlucky.

Well, for me, I’m not ready to jump to that conclusion. It is now hyper-vigilance o’clock from now on.

I filed a police report, which they completed over the phone. Apparently they didn’t need proof that my truck was broken into. They’ll be fine taking my word for it and adding it to their stack of paper. They said that my daily transaction number was ‘077.’ Does this mean that, as of my call at 7:50 AM, I was the seventy seventh person to require police assistance? That’s not exactly comforting.

At least I was insured for this. Zero dollar deductible and no increase in rates for theft or vandalism. The window guy came by mid afternoon, made my truck significantly less drafty, and departed without any out of pocket expense.

The boss-man was okay with me working from home today, considering the circumstances. Surprisingly, I got a lot done. Corporate work, nothing for Mother.

I ate an ungodly amount of seafood stew for dinner. I’m ready for this day to end.

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Stealing A Paycheck

Today was boring.

Nothing going on at work. Leftover homemade pizza for lunch. And the leftover red sauce that was a primary ingredient in the leftover homemade pizza topped some rigatoni for dinner.

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"Allez, Homard!"

Damn, your life becomes boring when you have a corporate job. The two most exciting things that happened today were the tilapia fish tacos I made for dinner.

I did find an easy way to pass information in the office though, not that it’s too hard to begin with.

There are a considerable number of co-workers who use the community fridge in the break room. They drop their meal off in the morning when they arrive and then pick it up when they eat lunch. So, it would be quite easy for someone to drop something off in the morning and have another person pick it up from the community fridge later in the day. It’s not like there’s a sign in/out sheet for everyone’s lunch bag.

There is some risk however. Word ‘round the water cooler is that there have been a few ham sammy thefts lately. It’s not fool proof, but it’s viable.

Any-who, on to the 4th season of 24 tonight.

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Good as Gold

This morning I stopped by a friend’s place. Anthony owns a jewelry store. He has a deep network that can find any stone you’re looking for. In addition, he does most of the metal work himself, making each piece truly unique. This makes him quite a good jeweler to know. What makes him a valuable contact is his web of associates. Businesses that operate with a good amount of cash and move items all around the country are quite beneficial in my line of work. Today, though, is just to get two watches fixed.

Well, I may have also scouted out a few items for someone in particular.

Tonight, Shepherd's Pie for dinner and early to bed. My assignment starts tomorrow.

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A New Resolution

Here’s the thing about Delaware. It’s far enough north so people think they can drive in the snow…but far enough south so they really can’t. What scares me more are the fearless SUV’ers with four wheel drive. Four wheel drive helps you get going. It doesn’t help you stop. It’s hard enough to stay alive in this business. I really don’t need Chevy S-10’s on thirty four inch tires fish-tailing all over the road.

I always pick a place in a parking lot that’s far away from other vehicles. This serves two purposes. First, I hate door dings. Also note that I never park downhill from a shopping cart return corral. Secondly, choosing a parking spot without anyone else near you eliminates the cover necessary for someone to place an incendiary device on your vehicle. It’s not preventative, but it’s precautionary. In addition, on a day like this, when leaving your vehicle, take note of the footprints in the snow. When you return, if you see the snow disturbed within reach of your starter, find another way to get home.

Using these safety measures, I entered Blockbuster. There’s nothing better to do on a day like this than to watch the first season of 24. Walking through the aisles, I make my selection, turn the corner and bump into Treasa Joyce.

Coincidence? No. I followed her here.

It’s not stalking, it’s surveillance.

She noticed my clean shaven appearance.

“I clean up well.”

I asked a few open ended questions and learned that she’s dog sitting tomorrow for a few friends that are out of town. After I pointed out that it’s possible, if not preferable, for two people, instead of one, to walk two golden retrievers, I have myself a date.

New Year’s dinner is still a solo event though:
Seared ahi tuna salad over bed of baby spinach.
Bacon wrapped filet mignon, topped with crab imperial and a lobster tail.
Grilled asparagus with balsamic vinaigrette.
Twice baked potato with smoked cheddar bacon cheese.
One bottle of 2006 Greg Norman petite sirah.
One bottle of extra dry champagne – at this point in the evening, quality won’t be paramount.

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Happy Hunting

Through conversations with my next door neighbor, Doug Bronton, I come to learn he’s an avid hunter. This is beneficial for two reasons.

First, I know he has firearms in his residence. If I can’t get to my cache, I now have another option. Also, if I need to find a long term solution to a problem, so to speak, I can point the heat in his direction by using Doug’s gun to complete the mission. Depending on how our relationship goes, I’ll remain open to doing what I need to do while he has an alibi. The police will question him about his involvement in the incident because his gun was involved. Eventually his story will check out and, eh, no harm no foul. This diversion will give me enough time to create distance between the investigation and myself.

Or, Mr. Bronton is a potential fall guy.

Secondly, Doug game me some venison tenderloin two days ago. It’s been marinating in Italian dressing ever since. Here goes:

Cut venison thinly across the grain.
Julienne a medium yellow onion and sauté in butter and a splash of olive oil.
Add Kosher salt and freshly cracked pepper to onions.
Cook 3-4 minutes until they start to soften.
Season venison as desired.
Lay venison across top of onions.
Turn venison over without moving onions, so venison remains on top of skillet.
When finished, spoon onions and a piece of venison onto garlic bread.

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